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THE 

WILLIAM  R.  PERKINS 

LIBRARY 

OF 
DUKE  UNIVERSITY 


Rare  Books 


POEMS, 
LUIS  DE  CAMOENS 

WITH  REMARKS 
ox 

HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS, 

NOTES,  &c.  Sec. 


BY  LORD  VISCOUNT  STRANGFORD. 


.j¥cci-3ies  meros  amores 

Catull. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

PRINTED  AND  PUBLISHED  BY  II.  MAXWELL, 
OPPOSITE  CHRIST  CHURCH. 

1805 


Al***   "-^ 


CIZZP 


TO 
DENHAM  JEPHSON,  ESQ.  M.  P.  Sec.  fee. 

IN  TESTIMONY  OF  GRATEFUL  ATTACHMENT, 

THE    FOLLOWING    FAGES    ARK    INSCRIBED, 
BY 
HIS    AFFECTIONATE    KINSMAN, 

THE  TRANSLATOR. 


REMARKS 


THE  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


OF 


CAMOENS. 


It  has  been  frequently  observed,  that  the 
memoirs  of  literary  men  are,  in  general,  so  devoid 
of  extraordinary  incident,  that  the  relation  of  them 
is  calculated  more  to  instruct  than  to  amuse.  The 
life  of  C  amo  ens  forms  an  exception  to  this  remark. 
Its  vicissitudes  were  so  many  and  so  various,  as 
almost  to  encourage  a  belief,  that  in  describing  them, 
the  deficiencies  of  fact  were  sometimes  supplied  by 
the  pencil  of  romance. 

The  late  ingenious  Translator  of  the  Lusiad  has 
pourtrayed  the  character,  and  narrated  the  misfor* 
tunes  of  our  poet,  in  a  manner  more  honourable  to 
his  feelings  as  a  man,  than  to  his  accuracy  in  point 
of  biographical  detail.     It  is  with  diffidence  that  the 

A    2 


(•) 


present  writer  essays  to  correct  his  errors;  but  as 
the  real  circumstances  of  the  life  of  Camoens  are 
mostly  to  be  found  in  his  own  minor  compositions, 
with  which  Mr.  Mickle  was  unacquainted,  he  trusts 
that  certain  information  will  atone  for  his  presump- 
tion. 

The  family  of  Camoens  was  illustrious,  and 
originally  Spanish.  They  were  long  settled  at  Cad- 
mon*,  a  castle  in  Galiciá,  from  which  they  probably 
derived  their  patronymic  appellation.  However, 
there  are  some  who  maintain  that  their  name  allu- 
ded to  a  certain  wonderful  birdf,  whose  mischievous 
sagacity  discovered  and  punished  the  smallest  devi- 
ation from  conjugal  fidelity.  A  lady  of  the  house 
of  Cadmon,  whose  conduct  had  been  rather  indis- 

*  Faria  y  Sousa,  V.  del  P.  §  iii. 

|  The  Camaõ.  Our  poet  himself  gives  a  somewhat  differ- 
ent account  of  the  matter,  f^uintil.  a  buma  dama,  v,  190.) 
Formerly,  every  well  regulated  family  in  Spain  retained  one 
of  these  terrible  attendants.  The  infidelity  of  its  mistress  was 
the  only'circumstance  which  could  deprive  it  of  life.  Should 
her  guilt  have  been  extended  to  any  degree  beyond  a  wish,  the 
faithful  bird  immediately  betrayed  it,  by  expiring-  at  the  feet 
of  its  injured  lord.  It  soon  was  difficult  to  find  a  Camaõ  that 
had  lived  in  the  same  family  during  three  generations ;  and  at 
length  the  species  became  entirely  extinct! 

This  odious  distrust  of  female  honour  is  ever  character- 
istic of  a  barbarous  age.  The  Camaõ  of  Spain,  and  the 
Mumbo  of  Africa,  are  expedients  indicative  of  equal  refine- 
ment. 


creet,  demanded  to  be  tried  by  this  extraordinary 
judge.  Her  innocence  was  proved,  and  in  grati- 
tude to  the  being  who  had  restored  him  to  matri- 
monial felicity,  the  contented  husband  adopted  his 
name. 

In  the  fourteenth  century,  a  dispute  having 
arisen  between  the  families  of  Cadmon  and  De  Cas- 
tera*,  a  knight  of  the  former,  had  the  misfortune  to 
kill  a  cavalier  belonging  to  the  latter.  A  long  train 
of  persecution  ensued,  to  escape  from  which,  Ruy  de 
Camoens  embraced  the  cause  of  King  Ferdinandf, 
and  removed  with  his  family  into  Portugal,  under 
the  protection  of  that  monarch,  about  the  year  1370. 
His  son,  Vasco  de  Camoens,  was  highly  distinguish- 
ed by  royal  favour  J,  but  had  the  superior  honour  of 
being  the  ancestor  of  our  immortal  poet,  who  de- 
scended from  him  in  the  fourth  generation. 

Luis  de  Camoens  was  born  at  Lisbon,  about 
the  year   1524||.     His  misfortunes  began  with  his 

*  Salgado  de  Araújo. — Casas  de  Galicia,  p.  304. 

f  Gar  cez  Ferreyra. — Vid.  do  Poet.  Edit.  Gencbon.  §  iii. 

\  King  Ferdinand  invested  him  with  the  lordships  of  Por- 
talegre, Alam-quer,  &c.     Faria. 

||  The  place  of  his  nativity  is  ascertained,  by  his  frequent 
application  of  the  epithet  "paternal "  to  the  Tagus ;  the  time 
of  it  is  involved  in  some  obscurity,  but  an  entry  in  the  regis- 
ter of  the  Portuguese  India  House  appears  to  determine  it. 
He  is  there  stated  to  have  been  twenty-five  years  old  in  1550. 
Faria.    Vid.  do  Poet. 


8 


birth,  for  he  never  saw  the  smiles  of  a  father; 
Simon  Vaz  de  Camoens  having  perished  by  ship- 
wreck in  the  very  year  which  gave  being  to  his  son. 
Such,  at  least,  is  the  received  opinion,  although 
there  be  many  reasons  for  calling  it  into  question*. 
Notwithstanding  the  diminution  of  wealth  which  the 
family  sustained  in  consequence  of  this  event,  the 
youthful  Camoens  was  sent  to  the  university  of 
Coimbrafj  and  maintained  there  by  the  provident 
care  of  his  surviving  parent. 

The  ideas  associated  with  the  place  of  our  edu- 
cation are  generally  lasting.  It  is  the  peculiarity 
of  poetical  minds  to  recall  them  with  delight,  and 
Camoens  frequently  mentions  Coimbra,  where  he 
was  fostered  on  the  "  lap  of  science,"  with  all  the 
tender  gratitude  of  an  affectionate  son.  During  the 
period  which  he  passed  at  the  university,  he  was 
an  utter  stranger  to  that  passion,  with  which  he  after- 
wards became  so  intimately  acquainted.  It  is  even 
recorded,  that  while  the  manly  graces  of  his  per- 
son inspired  many  of  the  better  sex  with  admira- 
tion, he  treated  his  fair   captives   with  disdain,  or 

*  The  same  register  mentions  him  as  one  of  his  son's 
sureties,  and  consequently,  living-  in  1550. 
■j-  Faria  y  Sousa — Sever im — Fcrreyra. 


at  most,  as  the  mere  objects  of  temporary   trans- 
port*. 

But  the  scene  was  soon  to  be  changed,  and  on 
his  arrival  at  Lisbon,  he  was  destined  to  feel  the  full 
vengeance  of  that  god  whose  power  he  had  contemn- 
ed. Love  is  very  nearly  allied  to  devotion,  and  it  was 
in  the  exercise  of  the  latter  that  Camoens  was  intro- 
duced to  the  knowledge  of  the  former.  In  the  Church 
of "  Christ's  Wounds,"  at  Lisbon,  on  the  11th  of 
April,  1542f,  he  first  beheld  Dona  Caterinade  Ataíde, 
the  object  of  his  purest  and  earliest  attachment.  The 
churches  of  Spain  and  Portugal,  says  Scarron,  are 
the  very  cradles  of  intrigue:}: ;  and  it  was  not  long 
before  Camoens  enjoyed  an  opportunity  of  declar- 
ing his  affection,  with  all  the  romantic  ardour  of 
eighteen,  and  of  a  poet. 

But,  in  those  days,  love  was  a  state  of  no  trifling 
probation,  and  ladies  then  unconscionably  expected  a 
period  of  almost  chivalrous  servitude,  which  happily 
for  gentlemen,  is  no  longer  required.  The  puncti- 
lious severity  of  his  mistress  formed  the  subject  of 
our  poet's  most  tender  complaints ;  for,  though  her 

*  Camoens,  Canç.  II,  stanz.  vi.  Canç,  VII,  stanz.  ii.  Son 
VII.  Sousa  in  loc. 

f  For  the  reasons  which  have  induced  the  translator  to 
assign  this  date,  see  the  note  on  Sonnet  I. 

\  Roman  Comique ;  P.  I,  ch.  ix. 


10 


heart  had  secretly  decided  in  his  favour,  still  Portu- 
guese delicacy  suppressed  all  avowal  of  her  passion. 
After  many  months  of  adoration,  when  he  humbly 
besought  a  ringlet  of  her  hair,  she  was  so  far  soften- 
ed by  his  entreaties,  as  to  make  a  compromise  with 
prudery,  and  bestow  one  of  the  silken  fillets  which 
encircled  her  head* !  These  anecdotes  must  not  be 
despised,  for  they  mark  the  temper  of  the  times. 

The  peculiar  situation  of  Dona  Caterina  (that 
of  one  of  the  queen's  ladies)  imposed  an  uniform 
restraint  on  her  lover,  which  soon  became  intolerable. 
Like  another  Ovid,  he  violated  the  sanctity  of  the 
royal  precincts,  and  was  in  consequence  banished 
from  the  courtf.  With  the  precise  nature  of  his 
offence  we  are  unacquainted,  but  it  too  probably 
arose  from  a  breach  of  discretion,  the  first  and  noblest 
amongst  the  laws  of  gallantry |.  Whatsoever  it 
might  have  been,  it  furnished  a  happy  pretext  to  the 
lady's  relations,  for  terminating  an  intercourse  which 
worldly  considerations  rendered,  on  her  part,  of  the 
highest  imprudence.  But  Love  prepared  consola- 
tion for  his  votary,  where  least  he  expected  it.  On 
the  morning  of  his  departure,  his  mistress  relented 

*  Camoens,  Son.  XLII,  and  Sousa  in  loc. 

f  Camoens,  Eleg.  Ill,  and  Sousa  in  loc. 

|  Faria y  Sousa.     Comment,  in  Eclog.  pag-.  240- 


11 


from  her  wonted  severity,  and  confessed  the  secret 
of  her  long-concealed  affection*.  The  sighs  of  grief 
were  soon  lost  in  those  of  mutual  delight,  and  the 
hour  of  parting  was,  perhaps,  the  sweetest  of  our 
poet's  existence.  Thus  comforted,  he  removed  to 
Santarém  (the  scene  of  his  banishment)  but  speedily 
returned  to  Lisbon,  again  tasted  of  transport,  was  a 
second  time  detected,  and  a  second  time  driven  into 
exilef.  To  such  a  spirit  as  Camoexs,  the  inactivity 
of  this  situation  must  have  proved  insupportable ;  the 
voice  of  Love  whispered  a  secret  reproach,  and  in- 
spired him  with  the  glorious  resolution  of  conquer- 
ing the  obstacles  which  fortune  had  placed  between 
him  and  felicity.  He  accordingly  sought  and  ob- 
tained permission  to  accompany  King  John  III|,  in 
an  expedition  then  concerted  against  the  Moors  in 
Africa.  Here,  whilst  bravely  fighting  under  the 
commands  of  a  near  relation||,  he  was  deprived  of 
his  right  eye,  by  some  splinters  from  the  deck  of 
the  vessel  in  which  he  was  stationed.     Many  of  his 

*  Sonnet  XXIV,  and  Comment,  in  loc. 
f  Faria y  Sousa,   V.  del  P.     §xiv. 

\  Of  this  monarch  Camoens  gives  a  fine  character  in  one 
comprehensive  line. 

"Foy  rey,  fez  tudo  quanto  a  rey  se  deve." 

Son.  L1X. 
"  He  was  a  king— in  every  act  a  king-," 
||  Sousa  says,  under  those  of  his  father.     Vido .  §  sdV. 


12 

most  pathetic  compositions  were  written  during  this 
campaign,  and  the  toils  of  a  martial  life  were  sweet- 
ened by  the  recollection  of  her  for  whom  they  were 
endured. 

His  heroic  conduct  in  many  engagements,  at 
length  purchased  his  recal  to  court.  He  hastened 
home,  fraught  with  the  most  tender  anticipations, 
and  found — what  must  have  been  hrs  feelings?  that 
his  mistress  was  no  more !— .* 

There  can  scarcely  be  conceived  a  more  inter- 
esting theme  for  the  visions  of  romance,  than  the 
death  of  this  young  and  amiable  being.       The  cir- 
cumstances of  her  fate  are  peculiarly  favourable  to 
the  exercise  of   conjecture.       She  loved,   she  was 
beloved,  yet  unfortunate  in  her  attachment,  she  was 
torn  from  the  world  at  the  early  age  of  twenty! ;  and 
we  cannot  but  adorn  her   grave  with  some   of  the 
wildest  flowers  which  fancy  produces.     But  her  lot 
was  enviable,  compared  to  that  of  her  lover.      The 
measure  of  his  sorrows  was  yet  imperfect.     He  had 
still  to  encounter  the  cruel  neglect  of  that  nation, 
whose  glory  his  valour  had  contributed  to  maintain. 
The  claims  of  mere  merit  are  too  often  disregarded, 
but  those   which  are   founded  on  the   gratitude  of 

*  Comment,  in  Sonn.  XIX,  et  alibi.  f  Ibid. 


13 


courts  are  hopeless  indeed !  Long  years  were  passed 
by  Camoens  in  unsuccessful  application  for  the 
reward  which  his  services  demanded*,  and  in  suing 
for  his  rights  at  the  feet  of  men  whom  he  could  not 
but  despise.  This  was  a  degradation  which  his 
high  spirit  knew  not  how  to  endure,  and  he  accord- 
ingly bade  adieu  to  Portugal,  to  seek,  under  the 
burning  suns  of  India,  that  independence  which  his 
own  country  deniedf. 

There  are  some  who  attribute  this  event  to  a 
very  different  cause,  and  assert  that  Camoens  quit- 
ted Lisbon  in  consequence  of  a  discovered  intrigue 
with  the  beautiful  wife  of  a  Portuguese  gentlemanf. 
Perhaps  this  story  may  not  be  wholly  unfounded.  It 
is  improbable  that  he  remained  long  constant  to  the 
memory  of  a  departed  mistress,  when  living  beauty 
was  ready  to  supply  her  place.    His  was  not  a  heart 


*  Joseph  de  Aquino.  Vid.  do  Poet.  p.  132,  edit.  1782. 

t  "  As  derradeiras  palavras  que  na  nao  disse  foraõ  as  de 
Scipiaõ  Africano,  Ingrata  pátria,  non  possidebis  ossa 
mea  !  "  The  last  words  which  I  uttered  on  board  of  the  vessel 
were  those  of  Scipio— "  Ungrateful  country  !  thou  shalt  not 
even  possess  my  bones."  Such  are  the  expressions  of  Camoens, 
in  a  letter  written  from  India,  to  a  friend  at  Lisbon.  The 
whole  of  this  composition  is  interesting-,  and  pathetic  in  the 
extreme. 

\  Mickle.— Life  of  Camoens.  Unfortunately,  Mr.  M.  does 
not  cite  any  authority  for  this  supposition. 

B 


n 

that  could  safely  defy  temptation,  although  the  bar- 
barous ingenuity  of  some  commentators*  would 
make  us  believe,  that  all  his  amours  were  purely* 
platonic,  and  that  he  was  ignorant  of  the  passion  in 
every  other  respect.  Happily  for  himself,  the  case 
was  diiferent,  and  his  works  record  that  he  more  than 
once  indulged  in  the  little  wanderings  of  amatory 
frolicf. 

On  his  arrival  in  India,  we  find  that  Camoejts 
contributed,  in  no  small  measure,  to  the  success 
of  an  expedition  against  the  Pimenta  Isles,  carried 
on  by  the  king  of  Cochin  and  his  allies  the  Portu- 
guese. His  own  recital  of  this  affair  exhibits  all  the 
charming  modesty  of  merit  J.  In  the  following  year 
(155  5)  Manuel  de  Vasconcelos  conducted  an  arma- 
ment to  the  Red  Sea§.  Our  poet  accompanied  him, 
and  with  the  intrepid  curiosity  of  genius,  explored 
the  wild  regions  of  Africa  by  which  Mount  Felix 
is  surrounded.  Here  his  mind  was  stored  with 
sketches  of  scenery,  which  afterwards  formed  some 
of  the  most  finished  pictures  in  his  Lusiad,  and  in 


*  Faria,  in  Son.  X,  et  al. 

f  Those  who  are  desirous  of  further  information  on  this 
subject,  may  obtain  a  very  curious  anecdote  by  consulting- 
Sousa.  Vid.  del  P.  §  xxxii. 

\  Eleg.  I.  §  Life,  by  Ferreyra,  §  xir. 


15 

other  compositions*,  to  the  former  of   which,  on 
returning  to  Goa,  he  devoted  his  whole  attention. 

India,  at  that  time,  presented  a  scene  of  poli- 
tical depravity,  which  no  subsequent  period  has 
exceeded.  Practices  were  tolerated,  which  even- 
tually wrought  the  downfal  of  the  government  by 
whom  they  were  authorized;  hordes  of  hungry 
adventurers  rioted  on  the  spoils  of  the  friendless 
natives,  and  the  demons  of  rapacity  and  avarice 
were  every  where  exalted  into  gods.  The  spirit  of 
Camoexs  rose  in  revolt  against  the  enormities  by 
which  he  was  surrounded.  An  opportunity  of  de- 
claring his  disgust,  at  length  occurred.^  The  arrival 
of  a  new  governor  at  Goa,  was  celebrated  by  the 
exhibition  of  a  kind  of  tournament,  in  which  reeds 
were  employed  in  place  of  lances,  thence  called 
"  The  S/iort  of  the  Canes."  Camoens  published 
a  satirical  account  of  this  affair,  in  which  he  described 
the  Chief  men  of  Goa,  as  adorned  with  allegorical 
devices,  &c.  allusive  to  the  character  and  conduct 
of  eachf.     In  consequence  of  this,  he  was  banished 

*  In  particular,  the  IX,  Can  cam. 

f  He  likewise  wrote  some  verses  entitled,  "  Disparates  na 
India"  which  severely  animadverted  on  the  mal-administfa- 
tion  of  the  new  governor. 


16 

to  China  by  order  of  Barreto,  the  Governor,  against 
whom  the  bard's  attack  had  been  principally  directed. 

This  proceeding  of  Camoens  has  not  escaped 
reprehension.  He  has  been  accused  of  ingratitude; 
but  how  could  he  be  ungrateful,  who  never  had  a 
friend?  His  rashness  in  provoking  the  anger  of  the 
great,  has  likewise  been  censured  by  the  cold- 
blooded moderation  of  worldly  men ;  men  to  whom 
truth  itself  seems  a  libel,  if  it  offend  the  dignity  of  a 
grandee.*  Yet,  though  it  be  a  mournful  fact  that 
prudence  and  genius  but  rarely  accord,  is  the 
sacrifice  of  the  former  to  be  regretted,  when  it 
makes  way  for  the  punishment  of  vice,  by  the  bold 
utterance  of  honest  indignation  ?  On  this  principle, 
the  conduct  of  our  author  appears  almost  free  from 
blame,  and,  perhaps,  he  was  only  culpable  in  suf- 
fering resentment  to  give  too  high  a  colouring  to 
the  sketches  of  truth. 

The  adventures  of  Camoens  in  China,  the  tem- 
porary prosperity  which  he  there  experienced,  and 
the  numerous  sorrows  and  persecutions  which  he 
afterwards  encountered,  have  been  fully  and  ele- 
gantly detailed  by  the  late  ingenious  translator  of  the 

*  Amongst   others,    Mons.  Du  Perron  de  Castera,    the 
French  translator  of  the  Lusiad. 


17 


Lusiad.  To  his  narration  the  present  writer  begs  to 
refer,  lest  he  should  extend  these  remarks  beyond 
their  proper  bounds. 

After  an  absence  of  sixteen  years,  Camoens 
was  compelled  to  return  to  Portugal,  poor  and 
friendless  as  when  he  departed.  His  immortal  Lu- 
siad was  now  ready  for  publication,  which,  however, 
was  delayed,  in  consequence  of  the  violence  with 
which  the  plague  then  raged  throughout  Lisbon. 
At  length,  in  the  summer  of  1572,  it  was  printed,* 
and  received  with  all  the  honour  due  to  such  a  glori- 
ous achievement  of  genius.  It  is  even  asserted  that 
King  Sebastian,  to  whom  it  was  inscribed,  reward- 
ed the  author  with  a  pension  of  375  reis\.  But,  ad- 
mitting the  truth  of  this  very  doubtful  story,  our 
poet  could  not  have  remained  in  long  possession  of 
the  royal  bounty.  Sebastian  was  speedily  hurled 
from  a  tottering  throne^,  and  liberality  was  a  stran- 
ger to  the   soul  of  his  successor.     To  his  eyes  the 

*  Faria  y  Soas  a,  Vid.  §  xxvii. 

f  When  Sebastian  undertook  the  Moorish  expedition, 
assured  of  victory,  he  brought  a  poet  with  him  to  Africa,  to 
witness  his  exploits,  and  to  celebrate  them  in  song.  The 
person  selected  for  this  office  was  Diego  Bernardes,  a  man 
of  poor  and  despicable  abilities.  Had  Camoens  been  really 
a  protege  of  the  monarch,  it  is  much  more  probable  that  he 
would  have  attended  him,  whose 

"  Sword  and  pen  were  rivals  in  renown." 

\  Faria,  ut  supra. 

*   2 


18 

cowl  of  monkhood  seemed  a  more  graceful  ornament 
than  the  noblest  laurels  of  the  muse*.  Such  was 
the  spirit  which  patronised  De  Sáf,  and  suffered  the 
author  of  the  Lusiad  to  starve ! 

The  latter  years  of  Camoexs  present  a  mourn- 
ful picture,  not  merely  of  individual  calamity,  but 
of  national  ingratitude.  He  whose  best  years  had 
been  devoted  to  the  service  of  his  country,  he,  who 
had  taught  her  literary  fame  to  rival  the  proudest 
efforts  of  Italy  itself,  and  who  seemed  born  to  revive 
the  remembrance  of  ancient  gentility  and  Lusian  he- 
roism,, was  compelled  in  age,  to  wander  through  the 
streets,  a  wretched  dependent  on  casual  contribution. 
One  friend  alone  remained  to  smooth  his  downward 
path,  and  guide  his  steps  to  the  grave,  with  gentle- 
ness and  consolation.  It  was  Antonio,  his  slave,  a 
native  of  Java,  who  had  accompanied  Camoexs  to 
Europe,  after  having  rescued  him  from  the  waves, 
when  shipwrecked  at  the  mouth  of  the  Mecon.  This 
faithful  attendant  was  wont  to  seek  alms  throughout 

*  In  the  preface  to  the  edition  of  Camoens,  printed  in 
1782,  vol.  i,  p.  59,  there  is  an  attempt  to  vindicate  the  charac- 
ter of  Cardinal  Henry  from  the  strictures  of  Mr.  Mickle. 
But  the  voice  of  history  cannot  be  silenced,  and  history  is  loud 
in  his  condemnation. 

t  Sousa.  Vid.  §  xxvii.  Francisco  de  Sá  was  an  author 
much  in  favour  with  Cardinal  Henry.  His  muse  was  of  a 
theological  turn.  He  wrote  orthodox  sonnets  to  St.  John,  and 
pious  little  epigrams  on  Adam  and  Eve,  &c. 


19 


Lisbon,  and  at  night  shared  the  produce  of  the  day 
with  his  poor  and  broken  hearted  master*.  Blessed, 
forever  blessed,  be  the  memory  of  this  amiable  In- 
dian !  But  his  friendship  was  employed  in  vain : 
Camoens  sank  beneath  the  pressure  of  penury  and 
disease,  and  died  in  an  alms-housef  early  in  the 
year  1579.  He  was  buried  in  the  church  of  Saint 
Anne  of  the  Franciscans.  Over  his  grave,  Gonçalo 
Coutinho  placed  the  following  inscription |,  which, 
for  comprehensive  simplicity,  the  translator  ventures 
to  prefer  to  almost  every  production  of  a  similar 
kind: 

HERE    LIES    LUIS    DE    CAMOENS  : 

HE    EXCELLED    ALL    THE    POETS    OF    HIS    TIME. 

HE    LIVED    POOR    AND    MISERABLE; 

AND    HE    DIED    SO. 

MDLXXIX. 

*  Faria y  Sousa.  §  xsix. 

|  The  place  of  his  death  is  differently  mentioned  by  Ma- 
noel de  Faria.  According  to  that  commentator,  he  died  in  his 
own  miserable  hovel,  close  to  the  church  in  which  he  was 
interred. 

\  Sousa.  Vid.  §.  Some  years  afterwards,  Don  Gon- 
çalves Camera  caused  a  long  and  pompous  epitaph  to  be  en- 
graved on  the  same  tomb.  But  this  posthumous  panegyric 
only  added  deeper  disgrace  to  the  facts  recorded  in  the  for- 
mer inscription. 


20 


It  has  been  justly  observed*,  that  the  fate  of 
Camoexs,  considered  in  a  political  view,  bears  aninti- 
mate  connexion  with  that  of  his  country.  The  same 
degradation  of  national  sentiment,  which  suffered 
such  a  man  to  become  a  beggar  and  an  outcast,  not 
long  afterwards  plunged  Portugal  into  the  lowest  dis- 
grace, and  reduced  her  to  the  abject  state  of  a  con- 
quered province.  So  true  it  is,  that  the  decline  of 
public  spirit  in  matters  of  taste  is  a  certain  indica- 
tion of  political  decayf. 

The  character  of  Camoens  may  be  inferred 
from  his  writings.  An  open  and  undisguised  con- 
tempt of  every  thing  base  and  sordid,  whatever  were 
the  rank  or  power  of  its  possessor,  formed  one  of 
its  principal  features.  We  have  already  seen  how 
much  the  worldly  interest  of  our  poet  was  injured 
by  this  honourable  audacity  of  soul.  Those  who 
condemn  it  must  be  ignorant  that  the  exercise  of 
this  feeling  produces  a   more  enviable  delight  than 


*  Mickle.     Life  of  Camoens. 

t  Of  this  opinion  was  Camoens  himself.  In  a  letter  to  Don 
Francisco  de  Almeyda,  written  a  few  days  before  his  death, 
he  has  these  prophetic  expressions:  "  Veran  todos  que  fuy 
tan  aficionado  a  mi  pátria,  que  no  solo  bolvi  para  morir  en 
ella,  mas  para  morir  con  ella  !" —  "  The  world  shall  witness 
how  dearly  I  have  loved  my  country.  I  have  returned  not 
merely  to  die  in  her  bosom,  but  to  die  with  her  1"  Sousa. 
Vid.  §  xxv 


21 

any  which  fortune  can  ever  bestow.    The  poor  man 
is  not  always  poor  ! 

But  gallantry  was  the  leading  trait  in  the  dispo- 
sition of  Camoens.  His  amours  were  various  and 
successful.  Woman  was  to  him  as  a  ministering 
angel,  and  for  the  little  joy  which  he  tasted  in  life,  he 
was  indebted  to  her.  The  magic  of  female  charms 
forms  his  favourite  theme,  and  while  he  paints  the 
allurements  of  the  sex  with  the  glowing  pencil  of 
an  enthusiast,  he  seems  transported  into  that  hea- 
ven which  he  describes.  Nor  did  this  passion  ever 
desert  him ;  even  in  his  last  days,  he  feelingly  regret- 
ted the  raptures  of  youth,  and  lingered  with  delight 
on  the  remembrances  of  love.  A  cavalier  named 
Ruy  de  Camera*,  having  called  upon  our  author  to 
finish  a  poetical  version  of  the  seven  penitential 
psalms,  raising  his  head  from  his  miserable  pallet, 
and  pointing  to  his  faithful  slave,  he  exclaimed, 
"  Alas,  when  I  was  a  poet,  I  was  young,  and  happy, 
and  blest  ivith  the  love  of  ladies,  but  now,  I  am  a  for- 
lorn deserted  wretch: — See — there  stands  my  poor 
Antonio,  vainly  supplicating  four-fience  to  purchase 
a  little  coals — I  have  them  not  to  give  him  t"  The 
cavalier,  as  Sousa  quaintly  relates,  closed  his  heart 

•  Sousa.  Vid.  §xxix. 


22 

and  his  purse,  and  quitted  the  room.      Such  were 
the   grandees  of  Portugal ! 

The  genius  of  Camoens  was  almost  universal. 
Like  the  great  father  of  English  poetry,  there  is 
scarcely  any  species  of  writing,  from  the  epigram  to 
the  epic,  which  he  has  not  attempted,  and,  like  him, 
he  has  succeeded  in  all.  It  is  not  the  province  of 
the  translator  to  offer  any  remarks  on  the  Lusiad. 
That  task  has  already  been  ably  performed.  Of  his 
minor  productions,  the  general  characteristic  is  ease  ; 
not  the  studied  carlessness  of  modern  refinement, 
but  the  graceful  and  charming  simplicity  of  a  Gre- 
cian muse.  When  he  wrote,  the  Italian  model  Was 
in  fashion,  and  as  Camoens  was  intimately  acquainted 
with  that  language,  he  too  frequently  sacrificed  his 
better  judgment  to  the  vitiated  opinion  of  the  public. 
Hence  the  extravagant  hyperboles  and  laborious 
allusions,  which  he  has  sometimes,  though  rarely, 
employed.  But  his  own  taste  was  formed  on  purer 
principles.  He  had  studied  and  admired  the  poems 
of  Provence*.  He  had  wandered  through  those 
vast   catacombs  of  buried  genius,  and  treasure  re- 

*  "  The  poetry  of  the  Troubadours  passed  into  Arragon 
and  Catalonia  at  the  time  when  the  kings  of  the  former  terri- 
tory (counts  of  Barcelona)  became  by  marriage  counts  of  Pro- 
vence." Mom.  L,ç  Grand,  Fabliaux,  yol.  ii,  p.  25. 


1J 

Warded  his  search.  Even  the  humble  knowledge  of 
Provençal  literature,  which  the  present  writer  pos- 
sesses, has  enabled  him  to  discover  many  passages 
which  the  Portuguese  poet  has  rendered  his  own. 
But  we  must  be  careful  not  to  defraud  Camoens  of 
the  merit  of  originality.  To  that  character  he  has, 
perhaps,  a  juster  claim  than  any  of  the  moderns, 
Dante  alone  excepted.  The  same  remark  which 
Landino  applies  to  that  poet,  may  be  referred  to 
him*.  He  was  the  first  who  wrote  with  elegance 
in  his  native  tongue.  The  language  of  Rome,  and 
even  of  Greece,  had  been  refined  by  antecedent  au- 
thors, before  the  appearance  of  Virgil  or  of  Homer, 
but  Camoens  was  at  once  the  polisher,  and  in  some 
degree  the  creator  of  his  own.  How  deplorable  must 
have  been  its  state,  when  it  naturalized  two  thousand 
new  words,  on  the  bare  authority  of  a  single  manf ! 
Monsieur  Menage  was  wont  to  pique  himself  on 
having  introduced  into  French  the  term  "vénuste;" 
yet  all  his  influence  could  never  make  it   current, 

*  "  Trovo  Omero  la  lingua  Greea  molto  già  abbondante, 
ed  elimata  da  Orfeo,  da  Museo,  &c.  ike.  trovo  Virgilio  la 
Latina  esornatae  da  Ennio,  e  da  Lucrezio,  Sec.  kc.  mainanzi 
a  Dante  in  Rngua  Toscana  nessuno  avea  trovato  alcuna 
leggiadria,  Sec."  Landino.  Comm.  in  Dant.  ed.  mcccoxci. 
fol.  xiii. 

f  Longueruana,  ou  Penseés  de  l'Abbe  Dufour,  p.  329. 


24 

nor    indeed   did    it    long    survive    its    illustrious 
fabricator*. 

Our  author,  like  many  others,  has  suffered 
much  from  the  cruel  kindness  of  editors  and  com- 
mentators. After  the  first  publication  of  his  "Rimas," 
there  appeared  a  number  of  spurious  compositions, 
■which,  for  some  time,  were  attributed  to  him. 
Amongst  these  was  a  poem  to  which  notice  is  due, 
not  on  account  of  its  own  merit,  but  from  regard  to 
the  reputation  of  Camoens.  It  is  called  "  The 
Creation  and  Composition  of  Man,"  and  is  a  strange 
medley  of  anatomy,  metaphysics,  and  school  divinity. 
In  subject,  and  occasionally  in  execution,  it  strikingly 
resembles  the  Purple  Island  of  Phineas  Fletcher ; 
and,  like  it,  is  a  curious  example  of  tortured  inge- 
nuity. One  instance  shall  suffice.  Man  is  typified 
under  the  symbol  of  a  tower.  The  mouth  is  the 
gateway,  and  the  teeth  are  described  as  two  and 
thirty  millers,  clothed  in  white,  and  placed  as  guards 
on  either  side  of  the  porch.  His  metaphor  is  more 
satirically  just,  when  he  represents  the  tongue  as  a 
female,  old  and  experienced,  whose  office  was  to 
regulate  and   assist  the    efforts  of   the   thirty-two 

•  Longueruana,  ou  Penseés  de  l'Abbe  Dufour,  p.  229- 


25 


grinders  aforesaid,  all  young  men  of  indispensable 
utility  and  extraordinary  powers  ! 

"  Duros  e  rijos,  trinta  e  dous  moleiros 
"  De  grande  força,  e  útil  exerciço! 

He  must  possess  no  little  credulity,  who  would  attri- 
bute such  a  work,  to  the  author  of  the  Lusiad*. 

There  is  also  another  poem  which  bears  his 
name,  but  is  certainly  the  production  of  a  different 
hand.  The  martyrdom  of  St.  Ursula  and  the 
eleven  thousand  virgins  forms  its  subject.  But  it  is 
not  probable  that  the  persevering  chastity  of  these 
unhappy  ladies  could  ever  have  found  favour  in  the 
sight  of  our  amorous  bard.  It  is  still  less  likely 
that  he  would  have  celebrated  it  in  song. 

Camoens  is  the  reputed  author  of  three  come- 
dies, published  at  different  periods  after  his  death. 
The  subject  of  one  of  them  is  the  amour  of  Antio- 
chus  with  his  step-mother  Stratonice.  There  are 
some  fine  passages  to  be  found    in  this   production; 


*  A  Treatise  on  Surgery  was  printed  in  1551,  by  Ber- 
nardino de  Montana.     The  Second  Part  of  it  is  called  "  El 
Sueno,""  or  The  Dream,  and  seems  to  have  been  the  original 
from  which  this  singular  poem  was  derived. 
c 


26 


hilt  in  general,  the  writer  seems  to  have  anticipated 
the  taste  of  modern  times,  and  to  have  considered 
comedy  and  farce  as  the  same.  Another  is  founded 
on  the  prolonged  adventure  of  Jupiter  and  Alcmena. 
The  third,  and  indisputably  the  best,  relates  the  ro- 
mantic loves  of  a  Prince  of  Denmark  and  a  Spanish 
Lady,  who  after  a  due  course  of  tribulation,  prove  to 
be  first-cousins,  and  are  happily  united.  But  not- 
withstanding the  improbability  of  the  design,  the 
execution  is  good ;  and,  on  the  whole,  this  composi- 
tion bears  internal  evidence  of  the  hand  of  Camoens. 
Something  remains  to  be  said  of  the  present 
translation.  It  is  offered  to  the  world  with  diffidence, 
as  the  favourite  amusement  of  a  young  mind,  which, 
wtien  obliged  to  relax  from  severer  studies,  preferred 
literary  trifling  to  total  inactivity.  The  translator 
begs  to  observe,  that  for  the  most  part,  he  has  closely 
copied  his  author,  but  that  where  circumstances 
demanded,  he  has  not  hesitated  to  be 

"  True  to  his  sense — but  truer  to  his  fame." 

Literal  versions  are  justly  deemed  absurd;  yet, 
on  the  other  hand,  too  great  an  extension  of  the 
Horatian  precept,  "  Nee  verbum  verbo,"  has  been 


27 


the  bane  of  many.  It  has  proved  to  the  world  of 
translation,  what  the  phrase  "  liberality  of  senti- 
ment" has  been  to  that  of  morals — the  worst  of 
errors  have  originated  from  both. 

Of  the  notes,  little  can  be  said.  He  who  com- 
ments on  amatory  verses  undertakes  but  a  limited 
office.  His  utmost  effort  is  the  citation  of  parallel 
passages,  unless  he  substitute  admiration  for  criti- 
cism ;  a  mistake  into  which,  of  all  others,  a  transla- 
tor is  most  likely  to  fall. 

The  present  writer  has  yet  to  offer  his  grateful 
acknowledgments  to  those  whose  advice  and  experi- 
ence have  aided  his  labours.  It  is  with  pride  and 
pleasure  that  he  enrols  among  them  the  names  of 
Percy  and  of  Hayley.  To  the  kindness  of  the 
latter  he  is  indebted  for  the  assistance  of  many 
valuable  books,  which  could  not  elsewhere  be  pro- 
cured; and  to  the  almost  fatherly  friendship  of  the 
learned  Bishop  of  Dromore,  his  obligations  have 
long  been  unbounded.  It  is  no  small  honour  to  so 
young  a  writer,  that  he  should  be  countenanced  by 
men,  who,  like  the  good  spirits  in  Trissino,  sit  under 
the  shade  of  their  own  laurels,  and  smile  encourage- 
ment on  those  who  are  labouring  up  the  mountain 
over  which  they  preside. 


POEMS,  &c. 


FROM  THE  PORTUGUESE  OF 


CAMOENS. 


c  2 


POEMS. 


CANZON. 

■'  Lembrevos  minha  tristeza 
«Que  jamais,"  &c. 

Canst  thou  forget  the  silent  tears 

Which  I  have  shed  for  thee  ? 
And  all  the  pangs,  and  doubts,  and  fears, 
Which  scatter'd  o'er  my  bloom  of  years 
The  blights  of  misery  ? 

I  never  close  my  languid  eye 

Unless  to  dream  of  thee  ; 
My  every  breath  is  but  the  sigh, 
My  every  sound  the  broken  cry, 

Of  lasting  misery. 


32 

O,  when  in  boyhood's  happier  scene 

I  pledg'd  my  love  to  thee, 
How  very  little  did  I  ween 
My  recompense  should  now  have  been, 

So  much  of  misery  ! 


33 


MADRIGAL. 

"  Se  de  dô  vestida  andais 

"  Por  quem  jâ  vida  no  tem,"  &c 

Why  art  thou  cloth'd  in  sad  array 
For  him,  whose  days  are  done, 

Yet  dost  no  sign  of  grief  display 

For  those,  thy  lightning  glances  slay  ? 
Though  he  thou  mournest  be  but  one  j 

— More  than  a  thousand,  they-—. 

Thou  bendest  on  the  lover's  pray'r 

The  tearless  eye  of  scorn ; 
And  while  thou  dost,  with  barbarous  care, 
Th'  illusive  guise  of  feeling  wear, 

Tho'  Pity's  garb  thy  breast  adorn, 
—She  never  enters  there  ! 


34 

MADRIGAL. 
(SPANISH.) 


"  Mi  eoraçon  me  han  roubado 

"  Y  Amor  viendo  mis  enojos,"  &c. 


The  heart  that  warm'd  my  guileless  breast 
Some  wanton  hand  had  thence  convey'd, 

But  Love,  who  saw  his  bard  distress'd, 
In  pity  thus  the  thief  betray'd — 

"  'Tis  she  who  owns  the  fairest  mien 

"  And  sweetest  eyes  that  e'er  were  seen  !•" 

And  sure  if  Love  be  in  the  right, 
(And  was  love  ever  in  the  wrong?) 

To  thee,  my  first  and  sole  delight, 

That  simple  heart  must  now  belong — 

— Because  thou  hast  the  fairest  mien, 

And  sweetest  eves  that  e'er  were  seen  ! 


This  is  one  of  the  many  poems  which  Camoe^s  originally 
wrote  in  Spanish.  There  are  some  of  his  compositions  of  a 
more  motley  description,  in  which  he  blends  two  languages 
together,  and  walks,  as  he  expresses  it,  "  with  one  foot  in 
Portugal  and  the  other  in  Spain.''  Com  hum  pêa  Portue- 
gueza,  outro  a  Gastelhana. 


35 


MADRIGAL. 

*{  Naõ  me  buscays,  Amor  ligeyro 
"  Naõ  me  buscays,"  &c. 

Pr'ythee,  Cupid,  hence— desist— . 
Why  should  I  increase  the  list 
Of  boys,  whose  sole  delights  consist 
In  kissing,  and  in  being  kiss'd  ? 

Starlight  eyes,  and  heaving  snows, 
Lips,  young  rivals  of  the  rose, 
Rounded  limbs,  and  folding  arms, 
Dreams  of  undiscover'd  charms, 

Bound  their  witchery  once  about  me ; 

But,  their  prisoner  now  is  free, 

Since  on  every  side  I  see, 
There  are  fools  enough  without  me ! 

Pr'ythee,  Cupid,  hence — desist — 
Why  should  I  increase  the  list? 

Matos,  in  one  of  his  letters,  quotes  this  little  Poem  as 
the  production  of  Cam  o  ens,  and  on  that  authority  only  it  is 
here  inserted. 


36 

CANZONET. 

(SPANISH.) 

"  Tiempo  !    que  todo  mudas, 
"  El  verde  manto  que,"  kc. 

Flcw'rs  are  fresh,  and  bushes  green, 

Cheerily  the  linnets  sing  ; 
Winds  are  soft,  and  skies  serene ; 

Time,  however,  soon  shall  throw 
Winter's  snow 
O'er  the  buxom  breast  of  Spring. 

Hope  that  buds  in  Lover's  heart, 

Lives  not  through  the  scorn  of  years ; 
Time  makes  Love  itself  depart, 

Time  and  scorn  congeal  the  mind  ; 
Looks  unkind 
Freeze  Affection's  warmest  tears! 


Our  poet  has  managed  this  trite  and  common  sentiment 
in  his  happiest  manner.  Nothing  is  more  frequent  in  Proven- 
çal poetry  than  gay  and  romantic  descriptions  of  Spring, 
'*'  w  herein  eche  thynge  reneweth,  saue  onelie  the  Louer." 

Surry. 


37 

Time  shall  make  the  bushes  green, 

Time  dissolve  the  winter-snow, 
Winds  be  soft,  and  skies  serene, 

Linnets  sing  their  wonted  strain, 
But  again, 
Blighted  Love  shall  never  blow ! 


38 


CANZONET. 

(vide  remarks  on  camoens,  page  11) 

"  Polo  meu  apartamento 
"  Se  arrazaõ,"  &c. 

I  whisper'd  her  my  last  adieu, 
I  gave  a  mournful  kiss ; 

Cold  show'rs  of  sorrow  bath'd  her  eyes, 
And  her  poor  heart  was  torn  with  sighs ; 
Yet — strange  to  tell — 'twas  then  I  knew 
Most  perfect  bliss. — 

For  Love,  at  other  times  suppress'd, 
Was  all  betray'd  at  this — 

I  saw  him  weeping  in  her  eyes, 
I  heard  him  breathe  amongst  her  sighs, 
And  ev'ry  sob  which  shook  her  breast, 
Thrill'd  mine  with  bliss. 

The  sight  which  keen  Affection  clears, 
How  can  it  judge  amiss? 

To  me,  it  pictur'd  hope ;  and  taught 
My  spirit  this  consoling  thought, 
That  Love's  sun,  though  it  rise  in  tears, 
May  set  in  bliss ! 


39 


RONDEAU. 


"  Com  Amor  a  rosa, 
"  Que  taõ  fresca,"  &.C. 


Just  like  Love  is  yonder  rose, 
Heavenly  fragrance  round  it  throws, 
Yet  tears  its  dewy  leaves  disclose, 
And  in  the  midst  of  briars  it  blows, 
Just  like  Love. 

CuU'd  to  bloom  upon  the  breast, 
Since  rough  thorns  the  stem  invest, 
They  must  be  gather'd  with  the  rest 
And  with  it,  to  the  heart  be  prest, 
Just  like  Love. 


Perhaps  this  little  Poem,  in  its  present  form,  has  no  very 
just  claim  to  the  title  which  it  bears.  Like  the  preceding- 
one,  it  seems  to  have  been  suggested  by  a  hint  of  Ausias 
March,  a  Troubadour. 

Sweet  is  love,  and  sweet  is  the  rose, 
Each  has  a  flow'r,  and  each  has  a  thorn ; 
Roses  die  when  the  cold  wind  blows, 
Love,  it  is  kill'd  by  lady's  scorn ! 


40 


And  when  rude  hands  the  twin-buds  sever, 
They  die — and  they  shall  blossom  never, 
—Yet  the  thorns  be  sharp  as  ever, 
Just  like  love. 


41 


STANZAS. 

M  Os  bõs  vi  sempre  passar 
"  No  mundo,"  &c. 

I  saw  the  virtuous  man  contend 

With  life's  unnumber'd  woes; 
And  he  was  poor— without  a  friend — 

Press'd  by  a  thousand  foes. 

T  saw  the  Passions'  pliant  slave 

In  gallant  trim,  and  gay  ; 
His  course  was  Pleasure's  placid  wave, 

His  life,  a  summer's  day.— 

These  fine  moral  lines  are  remarkable  for  their  extreme 
simplicity.  The  third  Stanza  probably  alludes  to  one  of  those 
little  transgressions  of  which  our  Poet  was  often  guilty,  but 
of  which  he  seldom  repented.  The  commentators  suppose 
that  it  relates  to  a  negro  girl,  of  whom  he  was  passionately 
fond.  They  endeavour  to  defend  the  irregularity  of  his  taste 
by  comparing  it  to  the  penchant  of  the  wisest  of  men  for  the 
dusky  Queen  of  Sheba. 

This  negro  slave  was  named  Joanna,  and  to  her  Camoens 
addressed  some  pretty  verses,  beginning, 

The  captive  which  Victory  gave  to  my  arms 
Has  prison'd  my  soul  in  the  chain  of  her  charms ; 
So  I  soothe  her  with  gentle  good-humour,  that  she, 
In  return,  may  be  more  than  good-humour'd  to  me !  &c 
©   2 


42 


And  I  was  caught  in  Folly's  snare, 
And  join'd  her  giddy  train — 

But  found  her  soon  the  nurse  of  Care, 
And  Punishment,  and  Pain. 

There  surely  is  some  guiding  pow'r 
Which  rightly  suffers  wrong — 

Gives  Vice  to  bloom  its  little  hour — 
But  Virtue,    late  and  long ! 


43 


CANZONET. 


Estasse  a  primavera  trasladada 
Em  vossa  vista,"  &c. 


Spring  in  gay  and  frolic  hour, 
Deck'd  my  love  from  many  a  flow'r ; 
Bade  young  hyacinths  diffuse 
O'er  her  locks  their  scented  dews ; 
Plac'd  the  violet's  darker  dyes 
In  her  all-imperial  eyes ; 


A  mistress  compos'd  of  flowers  is  by  no  means  a  rarity  in 
the  garden  of  the  Muses.  Our  own  Spenser  has  quaintly  pur- 
sued this  thought*. 

u  Her  lippes  did  smell  like  unto  gilliflowers, 
"  Her  ruddie  cheeks  like  unto  roses  red; 
"  Her  snowy  browes  like  budded  bellamours, 
"  Her  lovelie  een  like  pinkes  but  nevilie  spred ; 
"  Her  goodlie  bosome  like  a  strawberrie  bed ; 
"  Her  neck  like  to  a  bunch  of  cullambines, 
"  Her  ]  .        like  lillies  'ere  their  leaves  be  shed, 
«  jfP^.  jyjg  young  blossom'd  jessamines."  &c. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  the  4th  and  6th  lines  of  this 
fanciful  Sonnet  convey  strange  ideas  of  the  lady's  charms. 

*  Sonnet  64:    And  Shakspeare,  Sonnet  99, 


44 

Made  her  glowing  cheek  display 

Roses,  just  their  prime  attaining; 
But  reserved  the  buds  for  staining 

Lips,  as  fresh  and  firm  as  they  ! 

Dear  one !  he  whose  amorous  suit 
Fain  would  turn  thy  blooms  to  fruit; 
Does  he  merit  thus  from  thee, 
Piercing  thorns  of  cruelty  ? 


45 


CANZON. 


"  Quando  o  sol  encuberto  vay  mostrando 
"  Ao  mundo  a  luz  quieta,"  &c. 


When  day  has  smil'd  a  soft  farewel, 
And  night-drops  bathe  each  shutting  bell, 
And  shadows  sail  along  the  green, 
And  birds  are  still,  and  winds  serene, 
I  wander  silently. 


Imitated  from  the  34th  Sonnet.  The  translator  humbly 
presumed,  that  the  graces  of  this  charming  little  Poem  would 
appear  to  greater  advantage  in  its  present  form  than  in  that 
of  a  Sonnet. 

The  creative  powers  of  fancy,  during  the  absence  of  a 
mistress,  form  afavourite  subject  of  Provençal  poetry.  There 
is  a  very  comical  stcfry  somewhere,  of  a  fastidious  gallant, 
whose  perverted  imagination  conjured  up  circumstances, 
that  finally  put  Love  to  death. 

Cam  o  ens  seems  to  have  taken  the  hint  of  this  Poem 
from  Petrarch,  Sonnet  90. 

— Sennuccio  i  vò  che  sappi,  &c. 
Laura  mi  volve —     - 
Qui  tutta  umile  e  qui  la  vidi  altera, 
Or  aspra,  or  piana,  or  dispietata,  or  pia., 
Or  vestirsi,  &c.  &c. 


46 

And  while  my  lone  step  prints  the  dew, 
Dear  are  the  dreams  that  bless  my  view, 
To  Memory's  eye  the  maid  appears, 
For  whom  have  sprung  my  sweetest  tears* 
So  oft,  so  tenderly : 


And  Petrarch  was,  perhaps,  indebted  for  the  idea  to 
Ovid.     Fast.  2.  769. 

Carpitur  attonitos  absentis  imagine  sensus 
Ille :  recordanti  plura  magisque  piacent : 

Sic  sedit,  sic  culta  fu.it,  sic  stamina  nevit, 
Neglectae  collo  sic  jacuêre  comae; 

Hos  habuit  vultus,  hsec  illi  verba  fuêrunt, 
Hie  color,  haec  fácies,  hie  decor  oris  erat ; 

Sic  quamvis  aberat  plaeitse  prsesentia  formae, 
Quae  dederat  prxsens  forma  manebat  amor. 

IMITATED. 

Strange  is  the  pow'r  of  thought — oft  Memory  seems 

To  view  the  maid  in  visionary  dreams, 

Or  bending  o'er  the  loom  with  patient  care, 

Hes  white  neck  shaded  by  descending  hair, 

Or  when  her  song  the  lapse  of  time  beguiles, 

Or  sagely  sad,  or  ripen'd  into  smiles  ; 

The  same  that  blush,  the  same  that  faultless  grace, 

The  same  those  gay  bewitcheries  of  face  ; 

— Love  deems  her  near^and  hangs  upon  the  form, 

Which  fancy  draws — as  wishing  and  as  warm  ! 


4r 


I  see  her,  as  with  graceful  care 
She  binds  her  braids  of  sunny  hair ; 
I  feel  her  harp's  melodious  thrill 
Strike  to  my  heart — and  thence  be  still 
Re-echo'd  faithfully  : 

I  meet  her  mild  and  quiet  eye, 
Drink  the  warm  spirit  of  her  sigh, 
See  young  Love  beating  in  her  breast, 
And  wish  to  mine  it's  pulses  prest, 

God  knows  how  fervently 

Such  are  my  hours  of  dear  delight, 
And  morn  but  makes  me  long  for  night, 
And  think  how  swift  the  minutes  flew, 
When  last  amongst  the  dropping  dew, 
I  wander'd  silently. 


48 


MADRIGAL. 


u  Nunca  manhaã  suave 

"  Estendendo  seus  rayos,"  &c. 

Dear  is  the  blush  of  early  light 
To  him  who  ploughs  the  pathless  deep, 
When  winds  have  rav'd  throughout  the  night, 
And  roaring  tempests  banish'd  sleep — 
Dear  is  the  dawn,  which  springs  at  last, 
And  shows  him  all  his  peril  past. 

IMITATED  FROM  THE  BEGINNING  OT  THE  FIFTH  ODE 

Boscan,  a  celebrated  Spanish  Poet,  has  a  thought  some- 
what similar. 

Como  despues  del  tempestoso  dia 

La  tarde  clara  suele  ser  sabrosa, 

Y  despues  de  la  noche  tenebrosa, 
El  resplandor  del  Sol  plazer  embia  ; 
Assi  en  su  padecer  el  alma  mia 

Con  la  tarde  del  bien  es  tan  gozosa,  &c 

Sweet  is  evening's  tranquil  time, 

When  the  day  of  storms  is  done  ; 
Sweet  the  clear  cold  hour  of  prime, 

Night  just  scatter'd  by  the  sun  ; 
— Sweet — but  sweeter  far  to  me, 
The  dawn  of  hope  diffus'd  by  thee  ! 


49 


Dearer  to  me  the  break  of  day, 
Which  thus  thy  bended  eye  illumes ; 
And  chasing  fear  and  doubt  away, 
Scatters  the  night  of  mental  glooms, 
And  bids  my  spirit  hope  at  last, 
A  rich  reward  for  peril  past ! 


50 


MADRIGAL. 


"  Quem  se  confia  em  hus  olhos 
"  Nas  meninas  delles  vê,"  &c. 


The  simple  youth  who  trusts  the  fair, 
Or  on  their  plighted  truth  relies, 

Might  learn  how  vain  such  follies  were, 
By  looking  in  his  lady's  eyes, 
And  catch  a  hint,  if  timely  wise, 

From  those  dumb  children,  cradled  there  I 


The  same  term  in  Portuguese  signifies  both  the  pupil  of 
the  eye  and  a  child.  Hence  the  turn  of  this  fanciful  poem. 
Numberless  and  wretched  have  been  the  concetti  to  which 
this  unfortunate  pun  has  given  birth.  In  our  own  language, 
something  of  the  same  kind  has  been  attempted  by  Dr. 
Donne : 

"  So  to  engraft  ourhandes  as  yet, 

"  Was  all  the  meanes  to  make  us  one, 

"  And  pictures  in  our  eyes  to  get 
"  Was  all  our  propagation." 

THE    ECSTACY. 

Donne's  was  the  age  of  quaintness,  and  it  is  surprising* 
that  this  idea  has  not  been  more  ramified  and  tortured  by  the 
English  metaphysical  poets  of  that  school. 


51 


"  Poor  fool  i   thy  wayward  feats  forbear," 
(Those  mute  advisers  seem  to  say) 

"  And  hence  with  sighs,  and  tears,  and  care, 
"  For  thou  but  fling' st  thy  heart  away, 
"  To  make  a  toy — for  babies'  play." 


52 


CANZONET. 


"  Xaõ  sei  quem  assella 
"  Vossa  fermosura."  &c. 


Thou  hast  an  eye  of  tender  blue, 
And  thou  hast  locks  of  Daphne's  hue, 
And  cheeks  that  shame  the  morning's  break, 
And  lips  that  might  for  redness  make 

Roses  seem  pale  beside  them ; 
But  whether  soft  or  sweet  as  they, 
Lady  !  alas,  I  cannot  say, 

For  I  have  never  tried  them. 


Some  of  the  comment  of  Faria  has  been  introduced  into 
the  translation  of  this  poem,  and  certain  very  necessary 
liberties  taken  with  the  original. 

"  Thou  hast  an  eye,"  &c  Notwithstanding  all  that  has 
been  said,  and  all  that  has  been  written  to  disprove  the  ex- 
istence of  a  real  and  positive  standard  of  beauty,  were  we  to 
argue  from  the  universality  of  poetical  taste  in  every  age, 
we  should  place  the  essence  of  female  loveliness  in  the  de- 
scription before  us. — Locks  of  auburn  and  eyes  of  blue  have 
ever  been  dear  to  the  sons  of  song.  The  Translator  almost 
ventures  to  doubt  whether  these  two  ideas  do  not  enter  into 
every  combination  of  charms  created  by  the  poetical  mind. 
The  former  are  almost  constantly  accompanied  by  the  ad- 
vantages of  complexion,  and  by  that  young  freshness  which 


53 


Yet,  thus  created  for  delight, 
Lady  !  thou  art  not  lovely  quite, 
For  dost  thou  not  this  maxim  know, 
That  Prudery  is  Beauty's  foe, 

A  stain  that  mars  a  jewel  I 
And  e'en  that  woman's  angel  face, 
Loses  a  portion  of  its  grace, 

If  woman's  heart  be  cruel  I 

Love  is  a  sweet  and  blooming  boy, 
Yet  glowing  with  the  blush  of  joy, 
And  (still  in  youth's  delicious  prime) 
Tho'  ag'd  as  patriarchal  Time, 

The  withering  god  despises  : 
Lady !  would'st  thou  for  ever  be 
As  fair,  and  young,  and  fresh  as  he — 

Do  all  that  Love  advises  ! 


defies  the  imitation  of  art.  Sterne  even  considers  them  as 
indicative  of  moral  qualities  the  most  amiable,  and  asserts 
that  they  denote  exuberance  in  all  the  warmer,  and  conse- 
quently, in  all  the  better  feelings  of  the  human  heart.  The 
Translator  does  not  wish  to  deem  this  opinion  as  wholly 
unfounded.  He  is,  however,  aware  of  the  danger  to  which 
such  a  confession  exposes  him, — but  he  flies  for  protection  to 
the  temples  of 

"  Aurea  Venus." 


54 


STANZAS. 


Trabalhos  clescansariaõ 

Se  para  vòs  trabalhasse,"  kc. 


Yes — labour,  love !  and  toil  would  please, 
Were  toil  and  labour  borne  for  thee ; 

And  Fortune's  nursling,  lap'd  on  ease, 
In  wealth  of  heart  be  poor  to  me  1 

Why  should  I  pant  for  sordid  gain? 

Or  why  Ambition's  voice  believe  ? 
Since,  dearest,  thou  dost  not  disdain 

The  only  gift  I  have  to  give. 

Time  would  with  speed  of  lightning  flee, 
And  every  hour  a  comfort  bring, 

And  days  and  years,  employ'd  for  thee, 
Shake  pleasures  from  their  passing  wing ! 


55 


CANZON. 


(SPANISH.) 


"  Sepa,  quien  p.idece, 

"  Que  en  la  sepoltura,"  &c. 


O  weep  not  thus — we  both  shall  know 

Ere  long  a  happier  doom  ; 
There  is  a  place  of  rest  below, 
Where  thou  and  I  shall  surely  go, 
And  sweetly  sleep,  releas'd  from  woe 
Within  the  tomb. 

My  cradle  was  the  couch  of  Care, 

And  Sorrow  rock'd  me  in  it ; 
Fate  seem'd  her  saddest  robe  to  wear, 
On  the  first  day  that  saw  me  there, 
And  darkly  shadow'd  with  despair 

My  earliest  minute. 


56 

E'en  then  the  griefs  I  now  possess, 

As  natal  boons  were  given  ; 
And  the  fair  form  of  Happiness, 
Which  hover'd  round,  intent  to  bless, 
Scar'd  by  the  phantoms  of  distress, 

Flew  back  to  heaven  ! 

Fori  was  made  in  Joy's  despite, 

And  meant  for  Misery's  slave ; 
And  air  my  hours  of  brief  delight 
Fled,  like  the  speedy  winds  of  night, 
Which  soon  shall  wheel  their  sullen  flight 
Across  my  grave  1 


57 

CANZON. 

(SPANISH.) 

"  Pues  me  distes  talherida 

"  Con  gaíía  de  darme  muerte,"  &c. 

When  I  am  done  to  death  by  thee, 

And  cold  thy  lover  lies; 
Turn  to  me,  dear  one ;  turn  and  see 

Thy  beauty's  sacrifice! 

Turn  to  me,  dear — and  haply  then 

Thy  looks  may  life  restore  ; 
And  teach  the  heart  to  beat  again, 

That  beat  for  thee  before  I 

Turn  to  me,  dear !  and  should  a  gem, 

On  those  soft  eyelids  shine- 
Fall  holy  balm— fall  fast  from  them 
In  showers,  and  waken  mine.— 

Turn — and  from  lips  that  breathe  of  May, 

If  one  kind  kiss  be  given, — 
He  who  in  deathly  slumber  lay, 

Slept — but  to  wake  in  Heaven  ! 


58 


CANZONET. 

"  Os  olhos  socegados,"  &e. 

Lady!   when  with  glad  surprise, 
I  meet  thy  soft  and  shaded  eyes, 
Or  lost  in  dreams  of  love  behold, 
Thy  waving  locks  of  darken'd  gold, 
Or  press  thy  lip,  whose  dew  discloses 
Sweets,  that  seem  the  breath  of  roses, 
Lady !  I  sigh — and  with  a  tear, 
Swear  earth  is  heav'n — if  thou  art  near! 

But  when  (the  hour  of  transport  o'er) 
My  soul's  delight  is  seen  no  more, 
Remembering  all  thy  host  of  charms, 
I  tremble  then  with  wild  alarms  ; 

And,  taught  by  jealous  doubt,  discover 
In  every  gazing  youth,  a  lover ; 


This  Poem  is  attributed  to  Camoens  on  very  slight  au- 
thority. It  is  certainly  a  curious  specimen  of  the  doggish 
jealousy  too  often  found  in  the  amours  of  his  country. 


59 


Confessing  with  a  silent  tear, 

That  heaven  and  hell  are  wond'rous  near ! 


"  That  Heaven  is  ivond'rous  near  /"  This  sentiment  stri- 
kingly resembles  some  lines  of  Guillem  Aesmer,  an  old  Pro- 
vençal Poet. 

"  Quant  eu  li  quier  merce  en  genoillos 

"  Ela  mi  colpa,  et  mi  met  ochaisos 

"  E  l'aigua  m'  cur  ave'l  per  mer  lo  vis 

"  E  ela  me  fai  ung  regard  amoros 

"  Et  eule  bais  la  bucha,  e'l's  ols  am'dos 

w  — Adoncq  mi  par  ungjoi  de  Paradis!**9 

IMITATED. 

When  at  her  feet  I  long  have  pray'd 
With  pleading  eloquence  of  sighs, 

What  bliss  to  hear  the  melting  maid, 
In  lowly  murmurs  bid  me — <c  Rise." — 

How  all  my  bosom-pulses  beat 
When  with  a  kiss  I  seal  her  eyes ! 

My  soul  springs  forth  her  soul  to  meet, 
— They  meet  and  mix — in  Paradise ! 

»  T-vnvhitt's  Chaucer,     Gloss. 


60 


CANZON. 


Se  as  penas  com  que  Amor  taõ  mal  me  trata 
Permiterem  que  eu  tanto  viva  delias,"  &c. 


Should  I  but  live  a  little  more, 
Nor  die  beneath  thy  cold  disdain, 

These  eyes  shall  see  thy  triumphs  o'er, 
Shall  see  the  close  of  Beauty's  reign. 


The  shortness  of  life,  says  one  of  our  most  elegant 
writers,  is  equally  favourable  to  the  arguments  of  the  volup- 
tuary and  of  the  moralist.  Every  hard-hearted  fair  one,  from 
the  beginning  of  time,  has  been  reminded  that 

"  La  Beaulte  n'est  ung  fruictde  garde." 

This  Canzon  seems  to  have  been  suggested  by  part  of 
the  63d  Chant,  of  Ausias  March,  the  Provençal  Poet. 

"  No  sabea  prou  si  leixau  temps  fugir 

"  — Et  temps  perdut  no  polt  ester  cobrat,"  Sec. 

Did  ever  yet  a  moment  stay 

To  please  the  dallying  lover  r 
And  who  that  lost  the  lucky  day 

Could  e'er  that  loss  recover  ]  Sec.  Sec. 


61 


For  Time's  transmuting  hand  shall  turn 
Thy  locks  of  gold  to  "  silvery  wires  ;" 

Those  starry  lamps  shall  cease  to  burn, 
As  now,  with  more  than  hearnfy  fires. 

Thy  ripen'd  cheek  no  longer  wear 
The  ruddy  blooms  of  rising  dawn  ; 

And  every  tiny  dimple  there 
In  wrinkled  lines  be  roughly  drawn ! 

And  oh  !  what  show'rs  of  fruitless  woe 

Shall  fall  upon  that  fatal  day — 
How  wilt  thou  weep  the  frequent  "  no," 

How  mourn  occasion  past  away  ! — 

Those  vain  regrets,  and  useless  sighs, 
Shall  in  my  heart  no  pity  move — 

I  '11  deem  them  but  a  sacrifice 
Due  to  the  shade  of  buried  Love  ! 

"  Thy  locks  of  gold,"  &c.      So    Bembo, 

'*  Quando  le  chiome  d'or  caro  e  lucente 
Saranno  argente,"  &c 

The  Translator  has,   in   this   place,   taken   a   line  from 
Drummond. 

F 


62 


"  Those  vam  regrets,"  Sec     Gil   Polo,   a   Spanish  Poet, 
prettily  treats  this  thought  in  his  Diana,  lib.  ii. 

"  Porque  toma  tal  vingança, 
"  De  vosotras  el  amor, 
"  Que  entonces  os  dá  dolor 
"  Quando  os  falta  la  esperança  í* 

Thy  pride  of  charms  shall  all  decay, 
And  thou  shalt  then  its  forfeit  pay, 
And  vainly  weep  thy  former  scorn, 

Thy  thousand  lovers'  slighted  pray'rs, — 
— And  grief  shall  in  thy  heart  be  born, 

When  love  is  dead  in  their's  ! 


63 


STANZAS. 


TO  NIGHT. 


Segreda  noite  Amiga,  a  que  obedeço, 
As  rosas,"  &c. 


Night !  to  thee  my  vows  are  paid; 
Not  that  e'er  thy  quiet  shade 
Me,  in  bower  of  dalliance  laid 

Blest  and  blessing,  covers  ! 
No — for  thy  friendly  veil  was  made 
To  shroud  successful  lovers ; 
And  I,  Heaven  knows, 
Have  never  yet  been  one  of  those 
Whose  love  has  prov'd  a  thornless  rose  i 
But  since  (as  piteous  of  my  pain) 
Goddess  !  when  I  to  thee  complain 
Of  truth  despis'd,  and  hard  disdain, 

These  Stanzas  are  the  conclusion  of  an  Ode  to  the  Moon, 
and  are  the  only  part  of  it  which  is  worth  the  trouble  of 
translation. 


64 

Thou  dost  so  mutely  listen  ; 
For  this,  around  thy  solemn  fane 

Young  buds  I  strew,  that  glisten 
AYith  tears  of  woe 
By  jealous  Tithon  made  to  flow, 
From  Morning — thine  eternal  foel 


li  Young  buds  I  strev,"  &c  The  classical  offering  of 
flowers  to  Night  seems  to  have  been  suggested  by  B.  Tasso. 
Rime,  Lib.  ii.  Can.  3. 

"  Is  otte  !  che  debbo  darte 
"  Che  cosi  intenta,  e  cheta 
••'  Ascolti  le  mie  voei  alta  e  noiose  : 
"  Poiche  d'altro  honorarte 
"  Non  posso,  prendi  lieta 
"  Queste  negre  viole  e  queste  rose 
"  D  all'  umor  rugiadose,"  &.c. 

Night !  since  thy  pensive  ear  did  not  disdain 
The  weeping-  lover's  sadly  dittied  sU-ain, 
Large  gifts  of  gratitude  to  thee  he  owes, 
Who  kindly  listen'd  to  his  tale  of  woes  — 
Be  generous  still — his  little  all  receive, 
All  that  a  Poet's  humble  hands  can  give  ; 
Young-  violets  that  boast  celestial  blue, 
I  budding  roses,  newly  dipt  in  dew ! 

"  ByjeaUnu  Tithon"  &c     The  tears  of  Aurora  are  fre- 
quently mentioned  b\  poets,  but  it  was  reserved  for  Phineas 
give  a  natural  explication  cf  them — 


65 


"  Aurora  from  old  Tithon's  frostie  bed, 
"  (Cold  wintrie  wither'd  Tithon)  earlie  creepes, 
"  Her  cheek  with  gTief  was  pale,  with  anger  red, 
"  Out  of  her  window  close  she  blushing  peepes, 
"  Her  weeping-  eyes  in  pearled  dew  she  steepes, 
"  Casting  what  sportlesse  nights  she  ever  led," 

Eglogue  vii. 

(  The  Prize. ) 


F    3 


66 


CANZON 


Arvore  !  que  brando  e  bello,"  &c. 


Thou  pride  of  the  forest!  whose  dark  branches 
spread 
To  the  sigh  of  the  south-wind  their  tremulous 
green, 
And  the  tinge  of  whose  buds  is  as  rich  and  as  red 
As  the  mellowing  blushes  of  maiden  eighteen  ! 

IMITATED    FROM     THE    XXXVI.      SOX.      OF     THE    SECOND 
CENTURY. 

The  tree  to  which  these  lines  are  addressed,  seems  from 
the  description  to  have  been  the  Durio.  It  is  a  species  of 
i.pple-tree,  which  grows  to  an  immense  size,  and  to  the  fruit 
of  which  that  quality  is  attributed,  which  the  ancients  for- 
merly assigned  to  the  Lotos-     Sousa. 

"  As  the  mellowing  blushes"  he.  The  luxuriance  of  fe- 
male charms  furnishes  our  Poet  with  some  of  his  happiest 
allusions.  In  particular,  that  most  celebrated  simile  in  the 
9th  Lusiad : 

"  Os  fermosos  limões,  alii  cheirando 
"  Estaõ  virgíneas  tetas  imitando." 

Here  balmy  citrons  scent  the  whisp'ring  grove, 
Round  as  the  virgin's  rising  breasts  of  love. 


67 

O'er  thee  may  the  tempest  in  gentleness  blow, 
And  the  lightnings  of  Summer  pass  harmlessly 
by; 

For  ever  thy  buds  keep  their  mellowing  glow, 
Thy  branches  still  wave  to  the  southernly  sigh. 

Because  in  thy  shade,  as  I  lately  reclin'd, 
The  sweetest  of  visions  arose  to  my  view  ; 

'Twas  the  swoon  of  the  soul — 'twas  the  transport 
of  mind — 
'Twas  the  happiest  minute  that  ever  I  knew. 

For  this  shalt  thou  still  be  my  favourite  tree,— -• 
In  the  heart  of  the  poet  thou  never  canst  fade  ; 

It  shall  often  be  warm'd  by  remembering  thee, 
And  the  dream  which  I  dreamt  in  thy   tremu- 
lous shade. 


68 


CANZONET. 


"  Eu  cantey  jâ,  a  agora,"  &c. 


How  sprightly  were  the  roundelays 
I  sang  in  Love's  beginning  days  ; 
—Now,  alas,  I  but  deplore 
Death  of  all  that  blest  before  ! 

Then  my  heart  was  in  its  prime, 
("Twas  Affection's  budding-time!) 
— It  is  broken  now — and  knows 
One  sense  only— sense  of  woes  ! 

So  Petrarch,  Sonn.  194. 

u  Cantai — or  piango,  e  non  men  di  dolcezza 
"  Delpianger  prendo,  che  del  canto  presi,"  &c- 

Gay  were  my  songs — now  tears  will  only  flow, 
And  all  my  bliss  is  center'd  but  in  woe  ! 


69 


Joy  was  whilom  dash'd  with  ill, 
Yet  my  songs  were  cheerful  still; 
— They  were  like  the  captive's  strains, 
Chaunted  to  the  sound  of  chains ! 


"  Like  the  captive's  strains 

"  Chaunted  to  the  sound  of  chains  /" 

Imitated  from  Tibullus  Eleg.  vii.  b.  2. 

"  Spes  etiam  valida  solatur  compede  vinctum, 
u  Crura  sonant  ferro,  sed  canit  inter  opus : 

For  Hope  can  soothe  the  wearied  prisoner's  pains3 
And  turn  to  melody  the  clank  of  chains  ; 
Consol'd  by  her,  while  harsh  the  fetter  rings 
He  thinks  of  happier  days,  and  gaily  sings. 


70 


CANZON. 


A  minha  dor,  e  o  nome,"  &c 


Why  should  I  indiscreetly  tell 
The  name  my  heart  has  kept  so  well? 
Why  to  the  senseless  crowd  proclaim 
For  whom  ascends  my  bosom-flame? 

Alas,  there  are  but  very  few 

Who  feel  as  I  for  ever  do— 

And  hear,  with  shrinking  sense  of  pain, 

Holy  words  from  lips  profane ! 

For  she  is  holy  in  my  sight 
As  are  the  seraph  forms  of  light ; 
And  that  blest  name  denotes  whatever 
Of  good  there  be — or  chaste — or  fair. 


The  chaste  discretion  of  delicate  Love  is  admirably 
pourtrayed  in  this  litde  Poem.  Happy  for  our  Author  had 
he  always  obeyed  its  dictates ! 


71 


Of  her,  in  time  of  heaviest  woe, 
I  think,  and  tears  forget  to  flow  ; 
Of  her,  in  passion's  fervid  dreams, 
And  rapture's  self  the  sweeter  seems 

And  shall  the  name,  whose  magic  pow'r 
Throws  light  on  every  passing  hour, 
Shall  it,  a  word  of  usage  grown, 
By  every  heartless  fool  be  known? 

No — let  it,  shrin'd  within  my  breast, 
A  little  saint,  forever  rest, 
With  pious  ardours  worshipp'd  there.. 
Yet  never  mention'd,  but  in  pray'r! 


72 


CANZONET. 

**  A    DAMA    QUE    JURAVA    PELOS    SEUS    OLHOS." 

THE  LADY  WHO  SWORE  BY  HER  EYES- 

"  Quando  me  quiz  enganar 
"  A  minha  bella  perjura,"  &c. 

When  the  girl  of  my  heart  is  on  perjury  bent, 
The  sweetest  of  oaths  hides  the  falsest  intent, 
And  Suspicion  abash'd,  from  her  company  flies, 
When  she  smiles  likes  an  aiigel — and  swears  by 
her  eyes. 

For  in  them  such  magic,  she  knows,  is  display'd, 
That  a  tear  can  convince,  and  a  look  can  persuade ; 

"  The  lady  who  swore  by  her  eyes."  Such  asseverations 
were  not  unusual  in  the  days  of  chivalry.  They  are  frequent- 
ly mentioned  in  the  Tales  of  the  Troubadours.  In  the  Lai  of 
Courtoys  there  is  a  particular  instance.  "  Estant  couschez  en 
"  lict,  la  belle  dame  li  faict  sermen,  e  diet,  par  ma  fleor,  diet 
"efccPAR  cils  YE.vL.xqi  tant  estimes,  &c.  The  modest 
reader  must  not  expect  the  remainder  of  this  strange  adju- 
ration, which  is  a  continued  medley  of  pious  phrases  and  sen- 
timents by  no  means  analogous. 


72 

And  she  thinks  that  I  dare  not,  or  cannot,  refuse 
To  believe  on  their  credit  whate'er  she  may  choose. 

But  I  've  learn'd  from  the  painful    experience  of 

youth, 
That  vehement  oaths  never  constitute  truth  ; 
And  I  've  studied  those  treacherous  eyes,  and  I  find 
They  are  mutable  signs  of  a  mutable  mind! 

Then,  dear  one,  I  'd  rather,  thrice  rather  believe 
Whate'er  you  assert,  even  though  to  deceive, 
Than  that  you  "  by  your  eyes"  should  so  wickedly 

swear, 
And  sin  against  heaven— for  heaven  is  there  Í 


74 

PART  OF  THE  THIRD  ELEGY. 

"  O  Sulmonense  Ovídio  desterrado 
"  Na  aspereza,"  &c. 

When  that  sweet  bard,  to  whose  harmonious  hand 
Love's  golden  harp  in  softest  warblings  sigh'd, 
By  stars  unkind  was  too  severely  tried, 
And  forc'd  afar  from  Rome's  parental  land 
To  pace  with  weary  step  the  Pontic  strand; 

What  a  cold  rush  of  recollections  came 
Across  the  exile's  sad  and  sinking  mind, 
When  Memory  drew  the  joys  he  left  behind! 
Her,  who  so  long  had  fann'd  his  chaster  flame, 
His  babes — his  home — and  all  that  charm'd  before, 
And  all  that  blest  him  once, — but  ne'er  shall  bless 
him  more. 


The  Elegy  from  which  these  lines  are  taken,  was  proba- 
bly written  by  Camoexs  at  Santarém,  whither  he  had  been 
banished.  The  circumstances  of  his  exile,  and  the  cause  of 
it,  produced  a  natural  comparison  between  his  fate  and  that 
of  Ovid. 

"  He  who  so  long,"  <fc. 
«  His  babes,"  &c. 

In  the  third  Epistle  from  Pontus,  Ovid  thus  unfashiona- 
bly  laments  the  absence  of  his  wife. 


75 

Poor  banish'd  wretch  ! — he  had  not  pow'rs  to  bear 

The  vast,  unutterable  pangs  of  thought; 

But  still  in  woods,  and  wilds,  and  caverns  sought 
A  secret  covert  from  the  murderer  Care ; 
Now  slowly  wandering  through  the  midnight  air, 

In  briar'd  dell  he  roams,  or  pathless  grove, 
While  vainly  sings  the  mellow  nightingale, 
Unheard  by  him— although  she  chaunt  a  tale 

So  like  his  own—so  sad— so  full  of  love — 
Clos'd  are  his  ears — and  dim  his  moisten'd  eyes 
That  view  with  dull  regard  the  cold  and  starry  skies. 


,Utque  sit  exiguum  poenae,  quòd  cônjuge  charâ 
"  Quòd  careo  patriâ,  pignoribusque  méis." 

'Tis  mine  to  mourn  the  cherish'd  joys  of  life  ; 
Mourn  for  my  distant  country — children — wife. 


CANZONET, 


Nao  nos  engane  a  riqueza, 
Porqu,"  &c. 


Since  in  this  dreary  vale  of  tears 

No  certainty  but  death  appears, 

Why  should  we  waste  our  vernal  years 

In  hoarding  useless  treasure? 

No — let  the  young  and  ardent  mind 
Become  the  friend  of  human  kind, 
And  in  the  generous  service  find 

A  source  of  purer  pleasure ! 

Better  to  live  despis'd  and  poor, 
Than  Guilt's  eternal  stings  endure ; 
The  future  smile  of  God  shall  cure 

The  wound  of  earthly  woes. 

Vain  world  !  did  we  but  rightly  feel 

What  ills  thy  treacherous  charms  conceal, 

How  would  we  long  from  thee  to  steal 

To  Death — and  sweet  repose  I 


77 

CANZON. 

"  Vi  o  moço  e  pequenino,"  &c. 

I  met  Love  wand'ring  o'er  the  wild, 
In  semblance  of  a  simple  child  ; 
I  heard  his  name,  and  in  the  sound 
So  much  of  sweet  persuasion  found, 
That,  piteous  of  his  tears,  I  prest 
The  little  darling  to  my  breast, 
And  watch'd  his  quiet  slumbers  there, 
With  all  a  father's  tender  care ! 

From  day  to  day  the  orphan  grew, 
And  with  him  my  affection  too  ; 
Till  at  the  last,  around  my  mind 
The  winning  boy  so  closely  twin'd, 
I  learnt  his  baby  form  to  prize, 
Like  one  of  those  within  mine  eyes, 

Among- the  numerous  imitations  of  Anacreon's  Wander- 
ing- Cupid,  there  is  none  in  which  the  playful  character  of 
boyhood  has  been  so  well  preserved  as  it  is  in  this  little  Poem. 
The  destruction  of  the  flowers  is  an  act  of  mere  childish  mis- 
chief, which  admirably  accords  with  "  the  young-  adopted's" 

G   2 


78 

And  lov'd  the  young  adopted  more 
Than  ever  sire  did  son  before  I 

I  had  a  bank  of  favourite  flow'rs 
Which  blossom'd  e'en  in  wintry  hours, 
Content,  the  bosom's  thornless  rose, 
And  innocence,  and  heart's  repose  ; 
— Love,  like  a  rude  and  wanton  boy, 
Broke  into  my  bow'rs  of  joy, 
Tore  Content's  young  roses  thence, 
KiU'd  repose.        .and  innocence  1 

Ah  wretch !  what  mischief  hast  thou  done 
To  him  who  lov'd  thee  like  a  son ! 
How  couldst  thou  dim  the  doating  eyes 
Which  did  thee  like  their  babies  prize  ? 
How  break  the  heart  of  him  who  prest 
Thee,  cold  and  weeping  to  his  breast, 
And  watch'd  thy  quiet  slumbers  there, 
With  all  a  father's  tender  care  ? 

V  His  baby  form," — 

"  Like  one  of  those  within  mine  eyes"  Camoens  is  pas- 
sionately fond  of  this  allusion.  It  has  been  fancifully  pur- 
sued by  one  of  the  most  original  of  our  modern  Poets.* 


•  Little's  Poemi,  p.  51. 


79 

CANZON. 

"EL  PEQUENO  SONRISO." 

FROM   RIACHUELO. 
TO    INÊS    DE    GUETE. 

Dear  Inês,  wouldst  thou  but  believe 
A  heart  that  knows  not  to  deceive, 

(Alas  nor  longer  free  ;) 
That  faithful  heart  should  truly  tell 
The  secret  charm,  the  tender  spell, 

That  bound  it  first  to  thee. 

'Tis  not,  that  cradled  in  thine  eyes 
The  baby  Love  for  ever  lies 

On  couches  dipp'd  in  dew; 
'Tis  not  because  those  eyes  have  won 
Their  temper'd  light  from  April's  sun, 

From  Heaven  their  tints  of  blue  Í 

'Tis  not  that  o'er  a  bank  of  snow 
Thy  parted  tresses  lightly  flow, 


80 


In  waves  of  lucid  gold; 
Nor  yet  because  the  hand  of  grace 
Has  form'd  that  dear  enchanting  face 

In  beauty's  happier  mould  I 

It  was  not  these — .but  from  my  soul, 
It  was  a  little  smile  that  stole* 

The  cherish'd  sweets  of  rest ; 
And  ever  since,  from  dawn  to  night 
And  night  to  dawn,  it  haunts  my  sight, 

In  dimples  gaily  drest. 

E'en  now  by  Fancy's  eyes  are  seen 
The  polish'd  rows  that  break  between 

Two  lips  that  breathe  of  Mayt  ; 
E'en  now — but  oh,  by  Passion  taught, 
Young  Fancy  forms  too  bold  a  thought 

For  timorous  Love  to  say  1 

*  This  sentiment  is  very  like  some  beautiful  lines  of  Cle- 
ment Marot. 

Du  ris  de  Madame  d'  Allebret. 

"  Elle  ha  três  bien  cette  gorge  d'  albastre, 

"  Ce  doulx  parler,  ce  clair  tainct,  ce  beaulx  yeux, 
"  Mais  en  effect,  ce  petit  ris  follastre 

"  C'est  a  mon  gr  éce  qui  luy  seid  le  mieux." 
f  Literally,  "  De  sangre  y  leche  pintados."     This  simile, 
which  in  our  language  would  convey  any  idea  but  that  of  beau- 


81 

Yet,  Ines— wo uldst  thou  but  believe 
A  heart  that  knows  not  to  deceive, 

(Alas!  nor  longer  free;) 
'Twould  tell  thee,  thou  canst  ne'er  impart 
A  smile  of  thine  to  sooth  a  heart 

More  truly  bound  to  thee ! 


ty,  is  nevertheless  very  common  in  Spanish  Poetry.  Camoens 
too  has  frequently  adopted  it. 


SONNETS, 


Amongst  other  reasons  why  the  legitimate  Italian  Son- 
net be  not  suitable  to  the  genius  of  the  English  language,  the 
following  is  not  the  least  forcible.  In  those  languages  which 
are  more  immediately  formed  on  the  Latin,  there  is  a  frequent 
similarity  of  termination,  which  greatly  facilitates  the  use  of 
rhyme.  Accordingly,  the  Italian,  Spanish,  and  Portuguese 
languages  (which  originate  from  that  source)  have  adopted 
the  licence  of  polysyllabic  rhyme,  and  with  it  the  Sonnets 
The  former  was  a  liberty  which  they  could  scarcely  have 
avoided,  but  which  has  never  been  sanctioned  by  the  "  Mus<z 
severiores"  of  England.  To  us,  therefore,  the  mechanical 
arrangement  of  a  Sonnet  becomes  a  matter  of  peculiar  diffi- 
culty. 

Some  of  the  Spanish  poets  have  laid  down  a  collection  of 
rides  for  the  construction  of  Sonnets,  so  pompous  and  so  par- 
ticular, that  it  seems  as  if  they  considered  that  species  of  com- 
position as  the  sublimest  effort  of  human  ingenuity.  In  all 
the  oracular  obscurity  of  Portuguese  metaphor  we  are  told, 
that  a  Sonnet  should  "  be  opened  with  a  key  of  silver,  and 
closed  with  one  of  gold  !"  Que  ha  o  Soneto  de  abrir  se  coin  chave 
de  prata,  efecharse  com  chave  de  ouro*. 

*  Trat.  de  Vers.  Portug.     Em  Lisboa  1781.  12mo. 


&7 


SONNET  I. 

"  O  culto  divinal  se  celebrava 
11  No  templo  donde,"  &.c. 

Sweetly  was  heard  the  anthem's  choral  strain, 
And  myriads  bow'd  before  the  sainted  shrine, 
In  solemn  reverence  to  their  Sire  divine, 
Who  gave  the  Lamb,  for  guilty  mortals  slain : 
When,  in  the  midst  of  God's  eternal  fane, 


Love  delights  to  recal  the  circumstances  of  its  earlier  ex- 
istence; and  to  Camoens  those  earlier  remembrances  were 
certainly  the  pleasantest. 

"  When  in  the  midst"  &c  This  event,  from  the  internal 
evidence  of  other  Poems,  appears  to  have  taken  place  on 
Holy  Thursday,  1542,  in  that  church  at  Lisbon,  which  is  de- 
dicated to  the  "  Wounds  of  Christ"  If  we  compute  according 
to  the  calendar  then  in  use,  we  shall  be  able  to  ascertain  the 
exact  day  on  which  our  Poet's  passion  commenced.  He  tells 
us  in  the  7th  Canzon,  that  it  began  "  when  the  sun  was  en- 
tering Taurus."  Before  the  Gregorian  alteration,  that  in- 
gress was  settled  to  be  on  the  10th  of  April.  Holy  Thursday, 
in  the  year  1542,  happened  on  the  11th  of  April.  There  is 
a  class  of  readers  to  whom  the  omission  of  this  point  would 
have  appeared  unpardonable,  and  for  their  instruction  the 
Translator  has  investigated  it. 


88 


(Ah  little  weening  of  his  fell  design  !) 

Love  bore  the  heart  (which  since  hath  ne'er 
been  mine) 
To  one,  who  seem'd  of  heav'n's  elected  train  ! 
For  sanctity  of  place  or  time  were  vain, 

'Gainst  that  blind  archer's  soul-consuming  pow'r> 
Which  scorns,  and  soars  all  circumstance  above. 
Oh,  Lady  !   since  I  've  worn  thy  gentle  chain, 

How  oft  have  I  deplor'd  each  wasted  hour, 
When  I  was  free — and  had  not  learn'd  to  love  ! 


" — each  wasted  hour — " 
"  When  I  was  free,"  &C. 

Faria  says  that  Camoexs  was  indebted  for  this  idea  to 
Silvestre,  a  Spanish  Poet. 

"  Tan  preciosa  es  mi  prision, 
"  Soy  tan  bien  aprisionado, 
"  Que  pido  reconvencion, 

"  Del  tiempo  que  no  lo  he  estado  !" 

visit  of  love- 
So  delightful  my  prison  had  grown, 

So  charming-  the  fetters  I  bore, 
That  my  bosom  regretted  alone 

— It  had  not  been  captur'd  before  ! 


89 


SOXZET  II. 


O  Cisne,  quando  sente  ser  chegada 
A  hora  que  poem,"  &c. 


While  on  the  margin  of  his  native  shores, 
In  death's  cold  hour  the  silver  cygnet  lies, 
Soft  melodies  of  woe,  and  tuneful  sighs, 


The  Sonnets  formed  on  this  idea,  both  previous  and  sub- 
sequent to  that  of  C  amo  ens,  are  almost  innumerable.  It  is 
probable  that  our  Poet  founded  his  on  some  lines  in  Garcil- 


"  Entonces  como  quando  el  Cisne  siente 
"El  ansia  postrimera  que  le  aquexa 
"  Y  tienta  el  cuerpo  misero  y  doliente 
"  Con  triste  e  lamentable  son  se  quexa 
"  Y  se  despide  con  funesto  canto 
"  Del  espirtu  vital  que  del  se  alexa  ; 
"  Assi  aquexado  yo  de  dolor  tanto 
"  Que  el  alma  abandonava  vá  la  humana 
"  Carne,  solte  la  rienda  ai  triste  llanto." 

ECLOG.    II. 

IMITATED. 
As  pours  the  swan  his  melancholy  strains, 
While  death-pangs  shudder  thro'  his  freezing'  veins, 

H   2 


90 

And  lamentations  wild,  he  plaintive  pours, 
Still  charm'd  of  life — and  whilst  he  yet  deplores 

The  drear,  dark  night  that  seals  his  closing  eyes, 

In  murmur'd  grief  for  lost  existence — diesl 
So,  Lady,  (thou,  whom  still  my  soul  adores), 

While  scarcely  ling'ring  in  a  world  of  pain, 
My  wearied  spirit  treads  the  verge  of  death — 
O  Lady,  then  thy  Poet's  parting  breath 

Shall  faintly  animate  his  final  song, 
To  tell  of  broken  vows— and  cold  disdain — 

And  unrequited  love — and  cruel  wrong! 


Just  as  existence  wings  her  parting-  flight, 

And  heart  grows  chill,  and  eyes  are  steep'd  in  night, 

He  mourns  for  life,  in  lapses  sad  but  strong, 

And  his  last  accents  faulter  into  song. 

So  when  I  leave  this  dreary  vale  of  woe, 

And  love  and  grief  have  brought  my  spirit  low, 

For  thee,  most  fair — most  lov'd — thee,  most  severe, 

For  thee,  thy  bard  shall  weep  his  latest  tear, 

And  faintly  utter  with  his  failing  breath, 

"  'Tis  parting  makes  the  bitterness  of  death!" 

*'  And  unrequited  love  and  cruel  wrong"  The  original  con- 
cludes with  a  line  of  pure  Spanish  taken  from  Boscan. 

"  La  vuestra  falsa  fé,  y  el  amor  mio." 


91 


Such  combinations  of  language  are  not  unusual  among 
the  Poets  of  Italy,  Portugal,  and  Spain.  The  following1  cu- 
rious medley  is  found  in  a  Canzon  of  the  immortal  Dante. 

"  Chanson !  vos  pognez  ir  par  tot  le  mond 
"  Namque  locutus  sum  in  linguâ  trina, 
"  Ut  gravis  me  a  spina, 

"  Si  faceia  per  lo  mondo  ogn'  uomo  il  senta 
"  Forse  pietá  n'havra  chi  me  tormenta,"  &c 

Our  own  Chaucer  has  likewise  indulged  in  this  practice, 

"  O pulchrior  Sole  in  beautie,  &  full  ylucidente  !" 
ix.  ladies'  worthie 


92 


SONNET  III. 

"  Agora  toma  a  espada,  agora  a  pena 
"  Estacio  nosso,"  Sec. 

Eustace!  or  when  you  "wield  the  ponderous 

spear, 
Or  mingle  in  the  bard's  romantic  throng, 

To  you,  eternal  palms  of  fame  belong  ! 
To  Mars  alike,  and  to  the  Muses  dear, 
Whether  adown  the  waves  of  war  you  steer, 

Or  sail  upon  the  tranquil  streams  of  song. 
O,  if  awhile,  with  cadence  clear  and  strong, 
My  reed  might  hope  to  charm  your  learned  ear, 

All  undebas'd  by  ought  of  pastoral  sound, 
Then,  Eustace,  would  that  humble  reed  proclaim, 

How  you  (for  valour  as  for  verse  renown'd) 

Shall  win  the  warrior's  and  the  poet's  praise, 
And  like  a  watch-tov.'r  on  the  steeps  of  fame, 

Show'r  light  upon  the  sons  of  distant  days ! 

This  fine  Sonnet  is  addressed  to  Estaciode  Faria,  grand- 
father to  the  Commentator  on  Camokxs,  who  says  of  him,  that 
u  if  not  great  in  all  things,  he  Ki-as  little  in  none." 

"  And  like  a  laarcA-fourr,"  The  oiiginal  contains  a  pun 
on  the  words  Faro  and  Faria- 


93 


SONNET  IV. 


No  mundo  poucos  anos  e  cansados 
Vivi,  cheos  de  vil  miséria,"  &c. 


Slowly  and  heavily  the  time  has  run 

Which  I  have  journey 'd  on  this  earthly  stage; 
For,  scarcely  entering  on  my  prime  of  age, 
Grief  mark'd  me  for  her  own;  ere  yonder  sun 
Had  the  fifth  lustrum  of  my  days  begun  : 

And  since,  ccmpulsive  Fate  and  Fortune's  rage 
Have  led  my  steps  a  long,  long  pilgrimage 
In  search  of  lost  repose,  but  finding  none ! 

For  that  fell  star  which  o'er  my  cradle  hung, 
Forc'd  me  from  dear  Alamquer's  rustic  charms, 
To  combat  perils  strange  and  dire  alarms, 


The  touching  melancholy  of  many  of  those  compositions 
in  which  Camoexs  complains  of  his  sorrows,  becomes  truly 
interesting  when  we  consider,  that  he  laments  what  he  actu- 
ally suffered,  that  he  was  not  fastidiously  unhappy,  but  under- 
went real  misery  in  its  fullest  extent. 

"  To  combat  perils  strange"  The  original  is  not  very 
graceful — "  Me  fez  manjar  de  peixes  /'  literally,  "  had  made 
me  food 'for  fishes" 


94 


'Midst  that  rough  main,  whose  angry  waters 
roar 
Rude  Abyssinia's  cavern'd  cliffs  among, 

— Far  from  green  Portugal's  parental  shore  ! 


"  Midst  that  rough  main"  Sec.  Alluding  not  to  the  ship- 
wreck which  he  suffered  in  the  Gulf  of  Cochin-China,  but  to 
the  dangers  encountered  when  he  accompanied  Manuel  de 
Vasconcelos  in  an  expedition  against  the  Moorish  Vessels  in 
the  Red  Sea,  about  the  month  of  February,  1555. 

The  Commentator  Sousa,  will  not  allow  that  this  Sonnet 
relates  to  the  life  of  Cam  o  ex  s.  He  supposes  it  to  have  been 
written  by  our  Poet,  but  to  be  descriptive  of  the  misfortunes 
of  one  of  his  friends  and  liberally  bestows  the  epithets,  "beast 
and  fool,"  on  those  who  presume  to  think  otherwise. 


95 


SONNET  V. 


(vide   life  of   camoens,  page  11.) 
"  Aquella  triste  e  leda  madrugada,"  &.c. 

Till  Lovers'  tears  at  parting  cease  to  flow 

Nor  sunder'd  hearts  by  strong  despair  be  torn ; 

So  long  recorded  be  that  April  morn 
When  gleams  of  joy  were  dash'd  with  show'rs  of 

woe  : 
Scarce  had  the  purpling  east  began  to  glow, 

Of  mournful  men  it  saw  me  most  forlorn  ; 

Saw  those  hard  pangs,  by  gentle  bosoms  borne, 
(The  hardest  sure  that  gentle  bosoms  know  !) 
— But  oh,  it  saw  Love's  charming  secret  told 
Ey  tears  fast  dropping  from  celestial  eyes, 


Written  on  the  morning  of  our  poets  departure  from  Lis- 
bon to  Santarém. 

"  — Purpl'mg  orient"  &c.  Literally  "  marchetada"  in- 
laid. 


96 

By  sobs  of  grief,  and  by  such  piteous  sighs 

As  e'en  might  turn  th'  infernal  caverns  cold, 
And  make  the  guilty  deem  their  sufferings  ease, 
Their  torments  luxury — compar'd  to  these  I 


■'  As  e'en  might  turn," '*  8cc      This  fanciful  rhodomontadc 
seems  to  have  been  suggested  by  Dante. 

"  E  comminció  raggiandomi  d'un  riso 
"  Tal,  che  nel  fuoco,  faria  l'uom  felice !'; 

PARAD1SO,    CANTO    VII.    V,    IT- 


97 


SONNET  VI. 


Julgame  a  gente  toda  por  perdido 
Vendome  taõ  entregue  a  meu  cuydado,"  &c. 


My  senses  lost,  misjudging  men  declare, 

And  Reason  banish'd  from  her  mental  throne, 
Because  I  shun  the  crowd,  and  dwell  alone 

In  the  calm  trance  of  undisturb'd  despair, 

Tears  all  my  pleasure— all  my  comfort  care! 
But  I  have  known,  from  long  experience  known, 
How  vain  the  worship  to  those  idols  shown, 

Which  charm   the   world,   and   reign   unrivall'd 
there : 

Proud  dreams  of  pow'r,  and  fortune's  gilded  glare, 
The  lights  that  blaze  in  tall  Ambition's  tow'r, 


"  My  senses  lost"  &c  Perhaps  this  complaint  was  more 
than  poetically  true.  The  assertion  in  question  might  have 
been  occasioned  by  the  noble  independence  of  our  Poet's  dis- 
position, and  by  his  undisguised  contempt  of  titled  ignorance 
and  dignified  barbarity.  Such  conduct  will  in  all  ages  obtain 
the  appellation  of  madness. 


98 


For  such,  let  others  waste  life's  little  hour 
In  toil  and  weary  search — but  be  it  mine, 

Lady !  to  muse  of  thee — and  in  my  bow'r 
Pour  to  thy  praise  the  soul-impassion'd  line  ! 


99 


SONNET  VIL 


Sc  quando  vos  perdi,  minha  esperança 
A  memoria  perdera  juntamente,"  &c. 


When  from  my  heart  the  hand  of  Fortune  tore 
Those  smiling  hopes  that  cheer'd  mine  earlier 

day, 
Would  that  she  too  had  kindly  borne  away 

The  sweetly  sad  remembrances  of  yore ! 

I  should  not  then,  as  now,  in  tears  deplore 
My  buried  bliss,  and  comfort's  fast  decay ; 


Bertaut,  an  old  French  Poet,  hath  expressed  the  same 
sentiment  in  a  beautiful  manner. 


Felicite  passée 
Qui  ne  peux  revenir, 

Tourment  de  ma  pensée  ! 
Que  n'ay-je  en  te  perdant,  perdu  le  souvenir 

Helas,  il  ne  me  reste 
De  rnes  contentemens, 
Qu'  an  souvenir  funeste 
Qui  me  les  convertit,  a  toute  heure,  en  tourmens ! 


100 

— For  Love  (on  whom  my  vain  dependance  lay) 

Still  ling'ring  on  delights  that  live  no  more, 
Kills  all  my  peace — whene'er  the  tyrant  sees 
My  spirit  taste  a  little  hour  of  ease ! 

Fell  star  of  fate!  thou  never  canst  employ 
A  torment  teeming  with  severer  smart 
Than  that  which  Memory  pours  upon  the  heart 

"While  clinging  round  the  sepulchre  of  joy  ! 


101 


SONNET. 

"  Claras  agoas  e  frias  do  Mondego 
"  Doce  repouso,"  Sic 

Mondego  !  thou,  whose  waters  cold  and  clear 
Gird  those  green  banks,  where  Fancy  fain  would 

stay, 
Fondly  to  muse  on  that  departed  day 

When   Hope   was  kind,    and   Friendship  seem'd 
sincere; 

— Ere  I  had  purchas'd  knowledge  with  a  tear. 

— Mondego !  though  I  bend  my  pilgrim  way 
To  other  shores,  where  other  fountains  stray, 

And  other  rivers  roll  their  proud  career, 

Still — nor  shall  time,  nor  grief,  nor  stars  severe, 
Nor  widening  distance  e'er  prevail  in  aught 

To  make  thee  less  to  this  sad  bosom  dear; 
And  Memory  oft,  by  old  Affection  taught, 
Shall  lightly  speed  upon  the  plumes  of  thought, 

To  bathe  amongst  thy  waters  cold  and  clear ! 


The  earliest  and  happiest  years  of  our  Poet's  life  were 
passed  at  Coimbra.  The  walls  of  that  town  were  bathed  by 
the  river  Mondego,  to  which  this  beautiful  Sonnet  is  address- 
ed. 


I   2 


102 


SONNET  IX. 


"  Quem  diz  que  amor  he  falso  ou  enganose 
"  Ligeyro  ingrato,"  &c. 


Lives  there  a  wretch,  who  would  profanely  dare 
On  Love  bestow  a  tyrant's  barbarous  name, 
And  foe  to  every  soft  delight,  proclaim 

His  service,  slavery;   its  wages,  care? 

For  ever  may  he  prove  it  so,  nor  e'er 

Feel  the  dear  transports  of  that  generous  flame  ; 
For  him  nor  maiden  smile,  nor  melting  dame 

The  silent  couch  of  midnight  bliss  prepare ! 

For   much  he    wrongs    the    gentlest,   best   of 
pow'rs, 

Whose  very  pangs  can  charm,  and  torments  please. 

It  is  amusing  to  observe  our  Poet's  recantation  of  all  his 
blasphemies  against  the  omnipotence  of  Love.  Perhaps,  if 
every  man  who  has  felt  its  influence,  were  to  be  equally  can- 
did, he  would  confess  that  his  sweetest  hours  were  those  which 
were  passed  under  its  dominion.  "  Croyez  mot,  on  n'est  hew 
reux  que  par  I' 'amour.''  So  said  the  dangerous  Valmont,  and 
once,  at  least,  the  dangerous  Valmont  was  right ! 


105 


Whom  long  I  've  known,  and  in  whose  angriest 
hours 
Such  rapture  found,  as  would  I  not  forego, 
No — not  forego,  for  all  the  dead,  cold  ease 

Which  dull  Indifference  could  e'er  bestow  I 


104 


SONNET  X. 

"  Dizei  Senhora,  da  belleza  idea 
"  Para  fazerdes,"  &c. 

Come,  tell  me,  fairest,  from  what  orient  mine 
Where  undiscover'd  lurk  the  springs  of  day, 
Did  thy  triumphant  tresses  steal  away 

Their  sunny  tinges,  and  their  hues  divine  ? 

What  magic  makes  thine  eye  so  sweetly  shine, 

•'  Come  tell  vie,  fairest."     Thus  too  Ferreyra,  one  of  the 
most  pleasing-  amongst  the  Portuguese  writers  : 

"  — Donde  tomou  amor,  e  de  qual  vea, 
"  O  ouro  taõ  fino  e  puro  para  aquellas 
*'  Tranças  louras  ? — 

"  Donde  as  perlas,"  Scc. 

S0XXET    XIX. 

O  tell  me  from  what  purer  mine 
Did  Love  select  that  redden'd  gold, 

Which  fondly  o'er  thy  brows  divine 
Thus  hangs  in  many  an  amorous  fold  ! 

Both  Camoens  and  Ferreyra  seem  to  have  taken  the  idea 
from  Petrarch,  Sonn.  185. 

"  Onde  tolse  amor  l'oro,  e  di  qual  vena 
"  Per  far  due  t receie  bionde,"  kc. 


105 

Like  the  clear  breaking  of  a  summer's  day  ? 
And  when  did  Ocean's  rifled  caves  resign 

The  pearly  wealth  thy  parted  lips  betray, 
When  they  are  sever'd  by  seducing  smiles? 
— Yet  hear  me,  fairest,  since  with  barbarous  care, 
Such  store  of  blandishment  and  dangerous  wiles, 

To  thee  thy  star's  propitious  genius  gave, — 

— Warn'd  by  the  self-adorer's  fate,  beware, 
Nor  gaze  on  yonder  fount's  reflecting  wave  I 


106 
SONNET.  XI. 

"  Apollo  e  as  nove  musas  descantando 
"  Com  a  dourada  lira/'  &c. 

What  time  the  libera]  Muses  deign'd  to  show'r 

Soft  inspirations  o'er  my  golden  lyre, 

Love,  only  love,  would  all  my  notes  inspire, 
While  thus  I  sang,  within  my  cottage-bow'r— ^ 
u  — O  blessed  be  the  day,  and  blest  the  hour, 

"  When  first  I  felt  the  sweets  of  young  desire ; 

"  Blest  be  the  eyes  that  woke  my  am'rous  fire, 
u  And  blest  the  heart,  so  soon  that  own'd   their 
•       "pow'i!" 

Such  was  of  old  my  cheerful  roundelay, 
Till  time  made  all  the  dear  delusion  flee, 

Tore  from  my  heart,  not  fove,  but  hope,  away, 
And  turning  all  my  sunny  scenes  to  night, 
Veil'd  every  prospect  from  my  sick'ning  sight, 

Save  those  of  greater  ills — if  greater  be  I 

Thus  Petrarch; 

"  Benedetto  sia  V  giorno,  e'lmese,  e  I'anno"  Isfc. 
"  Veil'd  every  prospect ,"  kfc 

There  is  a  concetto  in  the  original  on  the  word  Esperança, 
which  signifies  both  Expectation  and  Hope. 


107 


SONNET  XII. 

"  Em  flor  vós  arrancou  d'entao  crescida 
14  Ah  Senhor  Dom  Antonio,"  &c, 

Dear  lost  Antonio '  whilst  I  yet  deplore 

My  bosom's  friend — and  mourn  the  withering 

blow 
Which  laid,  in  manly  flow'r,  the  warrior  low, 

Whose  valour  sham'd  the  glorious  deeds  of  yore  ; 

E'en  while  mine  eyes  their  humid  tribute  pour, 


Written  on  the  death  of  Don  Antonio  de  Noronha,  who 
was  slain  in  an  encounter  with  the  Moors  on  the  18th  of  April, 
1553.  We  must  be  careful  not  to  confound  this  amiable  young 
hero  with  the  two  inglorious  viceroys  of  his  name,  nor  with 
Don  Antonio  de  Noronha,  who  was  Governor  of  India  in  1568, 
men  remarkable  for  nothing  but  the  rapacity  and  extortion 
which  they  displayed  in  the  execution  of  their  office.  He 
whose  premature  death  our  Poet  thus  feelingly  laments,  was 
his  earliest  friend,  and  connected  to  him  by  a  remarkable 
similarity  of  fortune.  His  father,  the  second  Count  of  Li- 
nares, had  sent  him  to  join  the  Moorish  expedition,  in  order 
to  remove  him  from  the  object  of  an  attachment  which  he  had 
formed  at  Lisbon.  It  was  in  this  expedition  that  he  was  slain. 
The  circumstances  of  his  death,  as  detailed  by  Sousa,  exhibit 
all  the  chivalrous  gallantry  of  those  romantic  days,  when  men 
were  more  than  heroes,  and  women  but  just  less  than  divine. 


108 


My  spirit  feels  a  sad  delight,  to  know 

That  thou  hast  but  resign 'd  a  world  of  woe 

For  one,  where  pains  and  griefs  shall  wound  no 
more ; 

Tho'  torn,   alas,  from  this  sublunar  sphere, 

For  ever  torn,  by  War's  ungentle  hand, 

Still  were  the  Muse  but  as  Affection  strong, 

My  dead  Antonio  should  revive  in  song, 

And,  grac'd  by  Poetry's  M  melodious  tear," 

Live,  in  the  memory  of  a  grateful  land  1 

"  Live  in  the  memory,"  &c.     So  B.  Tasso, 
"  Vivrò  nelle  memorie  dei  mortali." 

SONNET    I- 


109 


SONNET  XIII. 

"  A  fermosura  desta  fresca  serra 

"Ea  sombra  dos  verdes  castanheiros,"  kc. 

Silent  and  cool,  now  fresh'ning  breezes  blow 

Where  groves  of  chesnut  crown  yon  shadowy 
steep ; 

And  all  around  the  tears  of  Evening  weep 
For  closing  day,  whose  vast  orb,  westering  slow, 
Flings  o'er  th'  embattled  clouds  a  mellower  glow, 

While  hum  of  folded  herds,   and  murmuring 
deep, 

And  falling  rills,  such  gentle  cadence  keep, 
As  e'en  might  sooth  the  weary  heart  of  woe  ; 


The  inefficacy  of  rural  beauty  to  please,  during-  the  ab- 
sence of  a  mistress,  is  among  the  common-places  of  amatory 
poets.  The  language  of  the  heart  is  so  universal,  that  the 
similarity  of  this  Sonnet  to  a  passage  in  Lang-home  will  not 
surprise  : 

" What  are  streams  or  flow'rs,' 

"  Or  songs  of  blithe  birds  ?  What  the  blushing  rose 
"  Young  health,  or  music,  or  the  voice  of  praise, 
"  The  smile  of  vernal  suns,  the  fragrant  breath 
"  Of  evening  gales — when  Delia  dwells  afar  ?" 


110 

Yet  what  to  me  is  eve,  what  evening  airs, 
Or  falling  rills,  or  ocean's  murmuring  sound, 

While  sad  and  comfortless  I  seek  in  vain 

Her  who  in  absence  turns  my  joy  to  cares, 
And  as  I  cast  my  listless  glances  round, 

Makes  varied  scenery  but  varied  pain! 


Ill 


SONNET  XIV. 

".Senhora  minha  se  a  fortuna  imiga 
"  Que  em  minha  fim,"  &c. 

My  best-belov'd  1 — although  unpitying  skies 
And  wrathful  fortune  sternly  thus  conspire 
To  bid  thy  servant's  lingering  steps  retire 
Far  from  the  temper'd  gleam  of  beauty's  eyes — 
Bound  still  to  thine  by  Love's  eternal  ties, 

That  heart  remains,  where  chaste  and  warm 

desire, 
Yet  fondly  glows  with  all  its  former  fire, 
And  Death's  cold  touch  and  wasting  Time  defies — 
—Yes — and  as  urg'd  by  Fate's  commands  I  go 
To  farthest  regions,  and  unkindest  shores, 
Oh  there,  thy  magic  name's  mysterious  charm 
Breath'd  in  a  sigh,  shall  danger's  self  disarm, 
And  while  the  combat  raves,  or  tempest  roars, 
Lull  the  loud  storm,  and  sooth  the  threat'ning 
foe! 


Written  on  his  departure  for  Africa, 

**  O  then  thy  magic  name's  mysterious  sound.'*  It  is  proba- 
le,  says  the  Commentator,  that  on  such  an  emergency,  he 
would  have  invoked  the  more  powerful  assistance  of  St.  James 
of  Compostella,  or  the  Archangel  St.  Michael. 


112 


SONNET  XV. 

"  Eu  cantey  jâ  d'amor  taõ  docemente 
"  Que,"  &c.  &c. 

I  sang  of  love—and  in  so  sweet  a  strain, 

That  hearts  most   hard    were  soften'd    at  the 

sound 
And  blushing  girls  who  gaily  throng'd  around, 

"  I  sang  of  Love  "  8cc.  Perhaps  this  thought  was  sug- 
gested by  Dante. 

"  Farei  parlando  innamorar  la  gente, 
"  — e  raggionar  'd'amor  si  dolcemente, 
'*  Che  face  consentir  lo  cuore  in  lui — " 

RiME,yb/.  iv.  et  X. 

So  gaily  shall  the  amorous  minstrel  sing", 
His  glowing  verse  shall  soft  persuasion  bring, 
And  while  the  strains  in  tides  of  sweetness  roll, 
Teach  warm  consent  to  each  enraptur'd  soul. 

But  Dante,  unfortunately,  did  not  fulfil  his  promise,  for 
his  minor  poems  on  amatory  subjects  are  often  deficient  in  the 
ease  and  delicacy  necessary  to  such  compositions. 

"  And  blushing  girls,"  &c.  The  aptitude  of  these  young 
scholars  brings  to  mind  a  celebrated  passage  in  the  Confes- 
"  sions  of  St.  Austin.  "  Si  non  amaveris,  frigidx  loquor :  Da 
"  amante  m,  da  sentientem,  da  desiderantem — sciet  quod  loquor  /" 
Confess.  Cap.  iii.  §  4. 


113 

Felt  their  souls  tingle  with  delightful  pain — 
For  quaintly  did  my  chaunted  songs  explain 

Those  little  secrets  that  in  love  abound— 

Life  in  a  kiss,  and  death  in  absence  found— 
Feign'd  anger — slow  consent— and  coy  disdain, 

And  hardihood,  at  length  with  conquest  crown  '. 
Yet  did  I  not  with  these  rude  lips  proclaim 

From  whom  my  song  such  sweet  instructions 
drew, 

Too  weak,  alas !  to  pour  the  praises  due 
From  youthful  gratitude,  to  grace  the  name 

Of  her,  who  kindly  taught  me  all  she  knew  ! 

"  Those  little  secrets"  &c.  So  Ausias  March,  the  Proven- 


çal 


"  He  asats  parlat  d'amor,  e  de  sòs  fets 
"  E  descuberts  molts  amros  secrets  !" 

canto  To. 

Enough  have  amorous  deeds  employ'd  my  song-, 
Enough  those  secrets  that  to  Love  belong. 

K2 


114 


.  SONNET  XVI. 

"  Se  da  celebre  Laura  a  fermosura 
"  Hum  numeroso  Cisne,"  &c 

If  those  fam'd  charms  which  grace  the  Tuscan 
fair 
Could  wake  a  bard  so  tender  and  so  true, 
Lady !  to  you,  sure  heavenly  songs  are  due, 

Since  Heav'n  has  form'd  you  with  peculiar  care ; 

Then  how,  alas,  shall  humble  Liso  dare 

"  The  Tuscan  fair ,"  &c.  Ferreyra  has  the  same  thought : 

Had  vou  but  grac'd  that  elder  day 
When  Petrarch  pour'd  his  pensive  lay ; 
By  Sorg-a's  stream,  if  haply  you 
Had  met  the  Poet's  amorous  view, 
O  then  the  bard  of  Sorga's  stream 
Had  surely  sung  a  sweeter  theme, 
And  to  a  nobler  passion  true, 
Tun'd  his  wild  harp  to  Love  and  you  ! 

"  Then  hew,  alas,  shall  humble  Liso  dare.''* 

Liso  is  the  anagTam  of  Lois.  In  the  same  manner,  our 
Poet  discreetly  calls  his  mistress  Natércia  instead  of  Cater ina. 
Sometimes  with  more  learned  gallantry  he  gives  her  the 
name  of  Avyetfwn» 


115 


Attune  his  simple  melodies  to  you  ? 

Must  I  not  trust  to  that  kind  chance  anew 
Which  whilom  wove  the  rosy  bands  I  bear, 
(When  first  it  gave  you  to  my  amorous  view;) 
— For  certes,  Lady,  you  derive  your  birth 

From  yon  pure  sky,  and  did  from  thence  descend, 
To  cherish  virtue  on  this  lowly  earth, 

And  mortal  hearts  of  baser  mould  amend, 
By  bright  example  of  superiour  worth  Í 


116 


SONNET  XVII. 


<£  Eii  vivia  de  lagrimas  izento 
"  Num  engano  taõ  doce,"  &c 


From  sorrow  free,  and  tears,  and  dull  despair, 

I  liv'd  contented  in  a  sweet  repose; 

I  heeded  not  the  happier  star  of  those 
"Whose  amorous  wiles  achiev'd  each  conquer'd  fair  ; 
(Such  bliss  I  deem'd  full  dearly  bought  with  care:) 

Imitated  from  Petrarch,  Sonnet  196. 


u  1  mi  vivea  di  mia  sorte  contento, 
"  Senza  lagrime,  e  senza  invidia  alcuna, 
"  Che  s'altro  amante  há  piu  destra  fortuna, 
"  Mille  piacer  non  vaglion  un  tormento  !" 

I  liv'd  contented  in  my  lowly  state, 

Nor  grief  my  heart  disturb 'd,  nor  jealous  fear, 

I  envied  not  the  Lover's  happier  fate — 
— Can  thousand  joys  repay  a  single  tear  ? 

"Such  bliss  I  deerríd"  "kc     Thus  Guillem  Aesmer,   the 
Troubadour. 

"  Mais  vaut  d'amor  qi  ben  est  enveios, 

■* — Un  dolz  piorar  non  vaut  qatorz  ris !"   &c 


117 

Mine  was  meek  Love,  that  ne'er  to  frenzy  rose, 

And  for  its  partners  in  my  soul  I  chose 
Benevolence,  that  never  dreamt  a  snare, 
And  Independence,  proudly  cherish'd  there  Í 
— Dead  now  is  Happiness — 'tis  past,  'tis  o'er—» 

And    in   its  place,  the   thousand   thoughts   of 
yore, 
Which  haunt  my  melancholy  bosom,  seem 
Like  the  faint  memory  of  a  pleasing  dream— 

They  charm  a  moment — and  they  are  no  more  1 

IMITATED. 

Some  love  to  weep  their  prime  away  ; 

No  charm  to  me  in  grief  appears, 
And  forty  smiles  could  never  pay 

A  minute  pass'd  in  tears ! 


118 
SONNET  XVIII. 

(v.   LIFE    OF    CAMOENS,    PAGE    10.) 

"  Lindo  sutil  trançado  que  ficaste,"  &c 

Dear  band,  which  once  adorn'd  my  worshipp'd 
fair, 
Pledge  of  that  better  gift  I  hope  to  gain, 
In  just  reward  of  Love's  long-suffer'd  pain  ; 

What  mighty  transport  would  my  bosom  share 

Had  I  but  won  a  tress  of  that  crisp  hair, 

Whose  rich  luxuriance  late  thou  didst  restrain' 
Much  though  I  prize  thee,  must  my  heart  com- 
plain, 

Since  deem'd  not  worthy  next  its  pulse  to  wear 
A  little  portion  of  that  precious  gold ! 

Dear  band,  my  miser  soul  were  griev'd  indeed, 


"  Dear  band,"  &c.  Our  Poet  had  implored  Donna  Ca- 
terina  to  grant  him  a  lock  of  her  hair.  She  promised  to  be- 
stow it  at  some  future  period,  and  in  the  mean-time  presented 
him  with  the  fillet  which  she  wore  round  her  head,  as  a  pledge 
of  her  intentions  in  his  favour.     Faria. 

This  Sonnet  was  perhaps  suggested  by  that  celebrated 
Poem  of  Garcilazo,  beginning  "  O  duices  prendas,"  &c 


119 


That  stars  severe  and  wayward  fate  withhold 
Truth's  just  reward,  and  long  affection's  meed, 

But  that  I  know  'tis  in  Love's  legends  told, 
Gifts,  small  as  these,  to  greatest  blessings  lead  I 

"  Gifts  small  as  these"  &c     Literally,  "  By  the  laws  of 
Love,  part  is  taken  in  pledge  for  all" 


120 


SONNET  XIX. 

"  Senhor  Joaõ  Lopez,  o  meu  baixo  estado, 
"  Ontem  vi  posto  em,"  &c. 

O  Lopez  !  yesterday  the  stars  were  kind. 
And  on  my  lowly  state  so  fairly  smil'd, 
That  even  thou,  though  Fortune's  favour'd  child, 

For  mine  would  gladly  have  thy  lot  resign'd. 

Her  form  I  saw,  who  chains  thy  prison'd  mind, 
Her  voice  I  heard,  which  musically  mild, 
While  like  a  spell  it  every  sense  beguil'd, 

E'en  lull'd  to  peace  the  rude  and  restless  wind ! 

— Lopez !  that  voice  such  rare  persuasion  arm'd, 
That,  in  a  word,  our  hearts  it  better  charm'd 

Than  others  could  in  thrice  a  thousand  more : 
How  have  I  since  'gainst  Fortune  rav'd  and  Love, 

'Cause  that  blind  boy  compels  us  thus  t'  adore 
Her,  whom  high  fortune  rears  our  hopes  above  ! 


"  0  Lopez  /"  This  was  Don  John  Lopez  de  Leytao,  to 
whom  our  Poet  afterwards  addressed  some  very  comical 
verses,  occasioned  by  the  sight  of  a  piece  of  Indian  cloth, 
which  Leytao  was  about  to  present  to  a  lady  of  whom  he  was 
enamoured. 


121 


SONNET  XX, 


'*  Os  olhos  onde  o  casto  Amor  ardia 
"  Ledo  de  se  ver,"  &c. 


Those  charming  eyes,  within  whose  starry  sphere 
Love  whilom  sat,  and  smil'd  the  hours  away, 
Those  braids  of  light  that  sham'd  the  beams  of  day, 

That  hand  benignant,  and  that  heart  sincere ; 

Those  virgin  cheeks,  which  did  so  late  appear 
Like  snow-banks  scatter'd  with  the  blooms  of  May, 
Turn'd  to  a  little  cold  and  worthless  clay, 

Are  gone— -for  ever  gone —  and  perish'd  here, — 

—But  not  unbath'd  by  Memory's  warmest  tear ! 


Written  on  the  death  of  Donna  Caterina  de  Ataide. 

M  Love  saw  the  deed."  The  concetti  with  which  this  Son- 
net terminates  were  so  obstinate  as  to  compel  the  Translator 
in  some  degTee  to  deviate  from  his  original. 


122 


—.Death  !  thou  hast  tom,  in  one  unpitying  hour 
That   fragrant  plant,  to   which,  while    scarce  a 
flow'r, 

The  mellower  fruitage  of  its  prime  was  giv'n ; 

Love  saw  the  deed — and  as  he  linger'd  near, 
Sigh'd  o'er  the  ruin,  and  return'd  to  Heav'n  ! 


123 


STANZAS. 


(SPANISH.) 


tc  Mi  nueva  y  dulce  querela 
c<  Es  invisible,"  &c. 


Within  my  bosom's  cell  I  bear 

A  recent  wound — a  valued  woe  ; 
It  lurks  unseen  and  buried  there, 
No  gazing  eyes  my  secret  know. 

It  was,  perhaps,  too  plainly  told, 

When  last  I  heard  the  speaking  maid  ; 

—The  rock  untouch'd  was  hard  and  cold, 
— The  stricken  flint  its  fires  betray'd  Í 


124 


LUSIAD.  CANTO  VI. 

ESTANCIA  XXXVIII. 

Em  quanto  este  conselho  se  fazia, 

No  fundo  aquoso,  a  leda  e  lassa  frota 
Com  vento  sossegado  proseguia 

Pelo  tranquillo  mar,  a  longa  rota: 
Era  no  tempo  quando  a  luz  do  dia 
Do  Eoo  emisferio   está  remota 
Os  do  quarto  da  prima  se  deitavam 
Para  o  segundo  os  outros  despertavam. 


125 


THE   NIGHT-SCENE  IN  THE  VI.  LUSIAD. 


XXXVIII. 

Meantime  as  thus  below  the  murmuring  deeps 
In  solemn  council  meet  the  watery  train, 

Her  bold  career  the  wearied  navy  keeps. 

Yet    cheer'd  by   Hope,  while   o'er  the  tranquil 
main, 

To  silence  hush'd,  the  brooding  tempest  sleeps  : 
— 'Twas  at  the  hour,  when  long  the  solar  wain 

Had  roll'd  down  Heav'n — and  rous'd  from  warm  re- 
pose, 

Slow  at  their  comrade's  call  the  second  watch  arose. 


The  Translator  has  to  regret  that  the  interruption  of  ill- 
ness prevented  him  from  concluding  this  Canto,  which  gives  a 
description  of  the  Tournament  held  in  London,  during  the  days 
of  John  of  Gaunt,  when  twelve  Portuguese  Chevaliers  van- 
quished the  same  number  of  English.  See  Mr.  Mickle's 
Translation. 

The  few  Stanzas  which  have  been  thus  translated,  afford 
a  fair  specimen  of  that  "  eking-out  tautology"  which  the  con- 
straint of  octare  measure  compelled  Camoens  to  employ,  and 
which  is,  perhaps,  the  greatest  blemish  in  his  Epic  Poem. 


l2 


126 


XXXIX. 


Vencidos  vem  do  sono,  e  mal  despertos 
Bocejando  a  meudo,  sa  encostavaõ 

Pelas  antenas,  todos  mal  cubertos 

Contra  os  agudos  ares,  que  assoprarão; 

Os  olhos  contra  seu  querer  abertos 

Mal  esfregando,  os  membros  estiravao, 

Remédios  contra  o  sono  buscar  querem, 

Historias  contam,  casos  mil  referem. 


Com  que  melhor  podemos,  hum  dizia, 
Este  tempo  passar,  que  he  taõ  pesado, 

Senaõ  com  algum  conto  de  alegria 
Com  que  nos  deixe  o  sono  carregado  ? 

Responde   Leonardo,   que  trazia 
Pensamentos  de  firme  namorado, 

Que  contos   poderemos  ter  melhores 

Para  passar  o  tempo,  que  de  amores  ? 

XLI. 

Naõ  he  disse  Velloso,  cousa  justa, 
Tratar  branduras  em  tanta  aspereza, 

Que  o  trabalho  do  mar  que  tanto  custa 
Naõ  sofre  amores,  nem  delicadeza; 


127 


Scarcely  awake,  against  the  tapering  mast, 
Heavy  and  cold  recline  the  languid  crew ; 

The  broad  sail,  flapping,  wards  the  nightly  blast 
Which  as  across  the  decks  it  keenly  blew 

Through  their  worn  garbs  with  piercing  chillness  past ; 
And  each  tir'd  limb  they  stretchiest  sleep  subdue 

Their  lids  that  long  to  close,  and  all  devise 

By  converse  short  and  forc'd,  to  shun  his  soft  surprise. 


"  How  can  we  better  these  dull  hours  employ, 
"  How  sleep  defy,"  one  watchful  youth  demands, 

"  Than  by  some  gay  romance,  some  tale  of  joy, 
"  To  spur  the  time  that  now  so  stilly  stands  I" 

"  Yes,"  Leonard  cries,  (whom  long  the  archer  boy 
Had  prison'd  fast  in  beauty's  gentle  bands,) 

"  Yes,"  Leonard  cries, "  'twill  charm  the  tedious  night 

"  To  tell  of  venturous  loves,  and  deeds  of  soft  delight." 

XLI. 

"  Perish  that  thought !"  the  bold  Veloso  cries; 

"  Who  talks  of  Love  in  danger's  dire  extremes  ? 
"  Shall  we,  while  giant  perils  round  us  rise, 

"  Shall  we  attend  to  those  enerving  themes? 


128 

Antes  de  guerra  fervida  e  robusta 

A  nossa  historia  seja,  pois  dureza 
Nossa  vida  ha  de  ser,  segundo  entendo 
Que  o  trabalho  por  vir  mo  está  dizendo. 

XLII. 

Consentem  nisto  todos  et  encomendaõ 
A  Yelloso,  que  conte  isto,  que  aprova ; 

Contarei,  disse  sem  que  me  reprendaõ 
De  contar  cousa  fabulosa  ou  nova  : 

E  porque  os  que  me  ouvirem  daqui  aprendaõ 
A  fazer  feitos  grandes  de  alta  prova, 

Dos  nacidos  direi  na  nossa  terra, 

E  estes  sejaõ  os  doze  de  Inglaterra. 

XLIH. 

No  tempo  que  do  reyno  a  rédea  leve 

João  filho  de  Pedro  moderava, 
Depois  que  sossegado  e  livre  o  teve, 

Do  visinho  poder  que  o  molestava ; 
Lá,  na  grand  Inglaterra  que  de  neve 

Boreal  sempre  abunda,  semeava 
A  fera  Erinnis  dura,  e  mâ  cizânia 
Que  lustre  fosse  a  nossa  Lusitânia ! 


129 


u  No— rather  some  tremendous  tale  devise 

"  Of  war's  alarms,  for  such  our  state  beseems— 
"  So  shall  we  scorn  our  present  ills,  and  learn 
"  To  cope  those  coming  toils  my  prophet  eyes  discern. 


He  spoke — and  all  accord — and  all  exclaim, 
"  To  thee,  Veloso,  thee,  the  task  is  due  1" 

"  None,  then,"  he  cries,  "  shall  this  narration  blame 
"  For  slighted  truth,  or  fables  told  as  true ; 

"  Arms  I  rehearse,  and  such  high  feats  of  fame, 
"  That  all  who  hear  shall  glorious  deeds  pursue, 

"  Fir'd  by  the  praise  their  own  compatriots  gain'd, 

"  Who  erst  the  titled  fight  'gainst  England's  Twelve 
*      "  maintain'd. 

XLIII. 

"  When  mighty  Juan  held  the  regal  reigns, 

"  (Great  Pedro's  son)  for  gentlest  sway  renown'd 

"  What  time  he  boldly  burst  those  despot  chains 
"  Which  proud  Castile  about  his  country  bound, 

"  It  happ'd  in  haughty  England's  cold  domains, 
"  Where  Boreal  snows  for  ever  clothe  the  ground 

"  Dire  feuds  arose — and  from  that  distant  shore, 

"  Eternal  lights  of  fame  our  Lusian  warriors  bore." 


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